Nuclear Winter
by arctapus
Summary: This is an Au version of the episode Drive, when the Maquis were reactivated and took over the ship. This takes that rather unsatisfactory storyline to the fullest conclusion with betrayal, collusion and a return to the Alpha Quadrant and danger.
1. Chapter 1

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Title: Nuclear Winter (1/5) [Book One]

Author: Arctapus/H-Boy

Codes: VOY, C/P eventually, Others, G to NC-17, AU, Spoilers for Season Seven, Violent, H/C, Angst fest, SLASH. MATURE.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them and I borrow them. No copyright infringement should be implied.

Summary: An AU, Voyager encounters deceit, lies and deception on the way home. Spurred by the seventh season's episodes 'Drive' and 'Regression', this story builds on that premise and takes them back home in a different way.

Feedback, criticism, comments, and suggestions are very welcomed and I thank you in advance.

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It was quiet in his cabin as he stood by the window looking out at the stars. Beyond one thin pane the void stretched out into infinity. He had wondered as a child what came after the darkness. More darkness? Did it get light? He never figured it out, at least until now. The blackness stretched on forever and ever. It never , he walked to his replicator and conjured up a beer. Turning and walking to his window once more, he stood sipping the cold liquor, feeling it wash down his throat and pool in his belly.

/... darkness, darkness, all is darkness .../

He sighed, remembering the quotation in its entirety. It suited this moment. It suited this day, this year, this eternity. Turning, he leaned against the window, staring around the room that had been home for seven years. It was filled with his touches, small tokens from different places, the few Native things he saved from his ship. Koko-peli, he danced across a pattern on his chair, eternally playing. Chakotay sighed, the sense of malaise filling him overwhelming. He closed his eyes, shutting out the world around him and tried to imagine home.

His father's face came before him and the pang of regret and sorrow that pierced him was profound. It was like a needle working its way into his soul and he closed his eyes willing it to go away. It took a while but his balance returned, forced into place by his iron will. He sighed deeply, blinking his suddenly too hot eyes and as he did a single tear escaped. It slid down his cheek, wet and hot, making its way to his chin. Rubbing his face brusquely, he turned and stared at the darkness once more. It was darker than yesterday he thought, sighing. It would be darker tomorrow and the next day and all the rest.

Tom Paris was married.

And he, Chakotay, was alone.

*****On the Bridge...

The mail call had come and everyone was happy with their monthly letter from home. Chakotay took his and stared at the name, noting a cousin from Ohio had taken his mother's space. Letters from his mother, sisters and brothers were rarer, something that had seemed strange until it had been explained that they were in a queue, waiting their turn to be sent. It hadn't been a great explanation but coming from Star Fleet probably a true one. Tuvok got one from his son, Sek or so he was told. His boy was a source of joy for Tuvok although one had to be a serious student of him to see the minute traces of pride and happiness that even his iron will couldn't conceal.

Kathryn got a letter, the smile on her face meaning her mother and sister wrote to her. Others got mail too, Neelix delivering it to them as they flew towards home, ever home. Their shift was nearly over and soon they would be where they were supposed to be, outside of the binary system of Tl'tsi. Tuvok would accompany him on a diplomatic mission, a 'sharing of information' chat if you will. They would exchange information about where they had come from and get information about what lay ahead.

Quid pro quo.

"We're coming within two light years of our destination,

Captain," Tom said, turning and glancing back, the letter padd lying near him unopened.

Chakotay flashed on what he knew of Tom's family, his overbearing father, his sweet and loving mother, sisters that could do no wrong. He knew why Tom was reluctant to open the letter but his supernal interest in that man made him want to know.

"Commander, it looks like it's time for you and Tuvok to do the honors," Kathryn said, a half smile on her face. He turned his eyes reluctantly from Tom, turning them to Kathryn's face. A moment of forgotten passion flashed through his mind and was quashed as it always was, pushed away and hidden once again in the recesses with all the other failed dreams of his past. "It should only take a couple of days. We'll rendezvous with you at the chosen place."

Kathryn nodded. "Take care and good luck."

Chakotay nodded and rose, glancing at the helm once more. A

golden head bent over his station mocked him as stared. Tom didn't know. He didn't know anything. He was married, happy and fulfilled. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked to the lift, followed by Tuvok. He turned and watched as long as he could, the lift door obscuring his view at last. Sighing silently, Chakotay clasped his hands behind his back as he rode the lift to the hangar deck. At his side, sensing Chakotay's distress, Tuvok stood silently.

*****Late that night...

He slept soundly, unbroken by dreams and beside him his wife lay. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts consumed by their earlier conversation. It was the eternal argument, the one thing that couldn't be changed and she felt the same restlessness inside her as ever.

"You really should read that, Tom."

"Later."

"You know, there's a statistically good chance that we'll make it home and then you'll *have* to face him. You need to make that moment easier by talking to each other now. I mean, you have a *whole month* to figure out what to say."

"I don't want to talk about it, B'Elanna," Tom said, exasperation in his voice.

He had risen and walked to the bedroom, stripping and showering. Pulling on bed clothes, he had slipped into the sheets, laying back with an arm thrown over his face. She had stared at him from the doorway, noting his unyielding demeanor and felt deja vu. Turning herself, she went through her routine and joined him, noting his solitary composure for a moment. Then, with determination, she turned and burrowed into him and settled, relaxing as his arm embraced her. Sighing deeply, she relaxed against his warmth and closed her eyes. The eternal argument would be for another day she thought, falling slowly into sleep herself. Tom would take a lot, lot longer.

*****On the way back...

The meeting had been a success, a pleasant interlude with a strange and cultivated people. He enjoyed seeing new things but the gloss that covered his life, making things more interesting and more colorful was gone. The depression that settled in was going to stay for a long time. He hadn't felt this low since he came to realize that Kathryn would never love him. Even when they were the only two people on an entire planet, he could not win her. She wouldn't give in. He felt stupid, he felt ... ugly and worthless. For the first time in his life, he felt these things and it wounded him. He had fallen back into an all business façade as he licked his wounds, pondering what there was about him that made relationships poisonous.

Seska.

Kathryn.

Tom...

He had never acknowledged to Tom that he was attracted to him, never believing that the lanky blond could be attracted back. Given his trackrecord he wasn't about to signal *that* infatuation to a man he couldn't be sure would return any affection. For Tom Paris to have that power over him was out of the question. So he sat and watched, wincing with every involvement, every dalliance. He watched other people touch Tom, savoring his body and his glib and amusing company. He watched others take what he craved and as usual, he felt raw and jealous and angry. Unfortunately, for Tom that anger was outwardly directed an emotionally tortured beam that caught the pilot squarely in its focus and he bore the brunt of Chakotay's frustrated sexuality for a long time. Then with characteristic strength of character, Chakotay began to gather himself back.

Tom wasn't to blame for what Chakotay's heart felt. It was up to him to tell Tom, to see if anything was possible between them. It was up to him to make himself appealing to the easy-going, complicated younger man. They skied together, they swam, Chakotay sparred with him from time to time, and they played cards. In short, they became friendly, even friends, and Chakotay confirmed that the feelings he had amounted to a lot more than just a desire to bed Paris. They slowly transformed themselves into the one thing he had sought all his adult life: a deep and abiding love.

He never told Paris, watching as he began a tentative relationship with B'Elanna. B'Elanna was nearly a daughter to him, a good person with no confidence and a lot of rage. He had taken her in, they were friends and confidantes and so he waited for Tom and her to fall away from each other as they had with every other person they had ever tried to love. They were so volatile, so unalike in many ways and he felt in time they would come apart on their own. He would wait and be there for both of them, the playing field open to him once more. Only it never happened. They argued, fought and made up and fought again and then in an incomprehensible moment, he was giving her away in a small ceremony in the Captain's Ready Room. He stood there and watched them, saying a simple promise and when it was over he pretended to be happy all the while his heart ached with shock and dismay.

/... until death do you part.../

Death.

It was a long way off but it felt like it hovered around him, sucking the joy that he once felt away from him. The joy of being close, the joy of amusing company, all of it was over now. There would be no more good times. There would be no more moments of possibility. There would be no more hope. He heard a noise behind him, Tuvok moving in the Flyer, going about his business while Chakotay flew her. He heard footsteps come up behind him and he turned, glancing up just as a hand gripped his head. It was enormously strong and then fingers placed themselves alongside his face. Pain suffused him, jabbing into his brain like spear points and he cried out, closing his eyes tightly. He could feel Tuvok inside his head, driving himself through layers of his own personal mental conditioning deep into the private layers of his personal mind.

"Your thoughts to my thoughts," Tuvok murmured, his eyes closing as he began to tell the words that would transform all their lives forever. "My thoughts to your thoughts... now is the time of the awakening ... this is a holy time ... primal energy recharges the blood ... this is the time of the rebirth ..."

Chakotay gasped, grimacing as the words penetrated deep into his mind. They found their place, touching something keep long from his consciousness and he cried out, relaxing slightly as Tuvok pulled back, letting him slump in his chair. Chakotay sighed raggedly, rising from the console, turning and looking at Tuvok with confusion. "The time of the awakening..." Chakotay whispered, trying to grasp the change in him.

Tuvok steadied him, holding his shoulders. "Pok temphar potani."

Chakotay stilled, his face suddenly calm. Then he nodded. "I understand."

With a sigh Tuvok let him go, stepping back as Chakotay turned and sat, staring at the console with a new purpose. Tuvok took his station and they flew on, twelve hours away from Voyager. Twelve hours away from the new life that would take them home again, home to a world they wouldn't recognize.

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Nuclear Winter (2/5) [Book One]

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Back on board Voyager...

He walked down the corridor, nodding to crew, seeing everything as it was but with different eyes. Things were changed, things would never be the same and he knew that their success would depend on clear thinking, careful planning and stealth. The twelve hour flight back to Voyager had quieted the fire in his gut, the fire that drove him to take over the ship. He wanted to do so with alacrity at first but sitting and flying had quieted the turmoil.

He had talked to Tuvok, discussing their unique and changed status and by the time Voyager hove into view they both knew what they would do. It would not be the rush, rush, rush that clawed at them. That voice had been stilled by Tuvok's mental dexterity. It would be careful, slow and perfect. Nothing could be done that would jeopardize the goal of succeeding. The Maquis cause, the future security of their homes and families depended upon what they did right here.

Chakotay had gone to the Bridge and made his report, noting Kathryn with new eyes. She was the enemy now. She would never understand. She would have to be handled carefully. Rising from his station, he glanced at Tuvok, meeting his eyes. They held for a moment, multitudes of understanding passing between them and then he moved to the lift, heading for his rounds of the ship. All would continue until they got word back at the end of the month.

He had attached a special code to his own message, a spider that would crawl away from his letter, moving along the electrical pathways that would take it to the one he sought. When the message came back, he would know. Until then, with care and effort, they would still the noise in their minds and move through their routines, each doing what had been agreed upon while they waited. Tuvok had the greatest job at this moment, the one that might still the gnawing doubt that plagued Chakotay. Later this night Tuvok would report to him in Chakotay's cabin and they would know just how deep and how wide the conspiracy was. Leaving the lift, he moved off on his journey, going through the motions of his routine even as he waited for the evening to come.

*****Later that night...

They sat in his cabin going over the evidence. It was grim.

Chakotay stared at it, noting the dates and the content. It was all true, his suspicions awakened by the bond between them and now the lines had been clearly delineated. "This makes our mission very clear."

Chakotay nodded. "It does. She knew."

Tuvok nodded. Chakotay rose and walked to the window, his heart constricted with a sense of betrayal that was all encompassing.

"She knew from the beginning. She didn't tell me."

Tuvok glanced at him. "Nor me. She was ordered not to."

Chakotay sighed. "All lies, all of it. Lies she gave to keep us in our place making it possible for us to be taken when we get back. And we *will* get back."

Tuvok picked up a padd, staring at it. "So it would appear."

"We have to be ready. We have to make sure when it happens that the Maquis are in charge."

"That can be arranged."

Chakotay nodded. "We will make it so," he said softly, turning and staring at the padd in Tuvok's hand. It contained maps of a sector of space only a month from where they were, a sector that contained a wormhole that showed promise. There was data on its size, its configuration, its frequency, and its stability. It led from this spot to the edge of Federation space about once every three days. Star Fleet was determined to have them be there. Chakotay was too. However, he had begun to formulate other ideas as well.

*****Late that night...

Chakotay paced, his emotions at the edge of explosion. It was hard resisting but they both managed, the days falling away one after another as they waited. He had read Janeway's letters, hidden carefully in them a code for Star Fleet Captains that only she was supposed to know. Chakotay remembered it, having broken it before during the war and he remembered it now. The orders had been simple and they had been continuous from the beginning of the transmissions that had been sent to them from the Federation over the wavering transmission line.

On the surface they talked of peace and reconciliation, of the destruction of the Maquis years before. All of the news from home was of settlement and surrender to inevitability, of happiness with the status quo. Underneath they told an entirely different story. The glib difference ... indifference ... between the two transmissions preyed on his mind and his sleep lately had been hard won.

Fact: The Maquis were alive and well. They were thriving. The war with the Dominion and their allies was over but the battle for the frontier raged on. The Maquis were waging it, well and long.

Fact: The letters sent telling of their destruction, of the loss of thousands and thousands of their friends and comrades were lies. They weren't dead. Many were in prison camps, Arizona and

Kansas in particular, but most of them were still waging war.

The leadership was taken in trade from the Cardassians as a part of the concessions of war settlement.

Fact: The war raged. The frontier was still endangered and the

Federation hadn't made amends to the people they had tossed away. They still felt they owned them. They still felt they had to obey Federation law even though many of them lost their Federation citizenship years before in the war.

Fact: Kathryn knew. She knew... Everything. Every. Damned. Thing.

He bit his lip, pausing in his pacing and turned to the window, staring at the star field beyond. In less than a month, they would be near their place of departure, the wormhole beckoning them home. In less than a month, they would know what the real truth was. Then, at that precise moment, they would be ready. He turned, glancing at a picture cube with images of Kathryn and him together, smiling like colleagues and friends. He reached down and picked it up, staring at it, remembering the moments and the emotions. He stared at it for a moment and then with rage, turned and threw it against the far wall.

It shattered and splintered, the images winking out. They disappeared just like his trust, his emotions and his hope. In their place another figure coalesced, the Maquis leader, the resistance fighter, the man capable of attacking and killing and dying for a cause he believed in. The man who gave up his dreams and returned home to live and die in the pursuit of his father's vengeance emerged from the smoking ruins of his old life. In the place of the Star Fleet Commander, a Maquis warrior emerged.

*****Two days later...

Tom Paris sat in the Mess Hall nursing a cup of coffee. He watched Chakotay, noting his tension and wondered what could be bothering the tall, quiet man. He had taken to eating by himself or with Tuvok, avoiding most of the others. Janeway had noticed, he was certain, and all of her overtures to Chakotay were politely rebuffed. He wondered if Chakotay had received bad news from home. He hoped not. He cared about Chakotay, admiring his patient and confident strength. For too many years, they had been distant, distracted and separated by their disparate temperaments and points of view.

He, himself, had been flighty, self-involved, filled with seething anger and a desire to prove something to someone and when he met Chakotay he found that sounding board, that back board in which he battered himself until he found himself becoming more the man he wanted to be. Chakotay had disdained him, fought him, believed in him, transformed him, shaped him with his attitudes, and together they had become friends. It had been a process of assimilation and reformation, redemption and maturation. The boy with an attitude that had stepped from Deep Space Nine onto the shining decks of Voyager was not the same man sitting by the window staring at the intense and solitary figure eating alone.

Rising, cup in hand, Tom walked to where Chakotay sat, so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't see Tom stop before him, pausing with a thoughtful look on his face. "May I join you?" Tom asked, waiting.

Chakotay started and looked up, flushing slightly. He nodded and Tom pulled out a chair, sitting and resting his elbows on the table as he cradled his cup in his hands. "You look pensive. Are you all right?"

Chakotay looked at Tom, noting his handsome face and pale skin. He repressed a sigh. "I'm fine."

Tom paused a moment, looking at Chakotay thoughtfully. "Oooo-kay."

Chakotay paused, putting down his cup. "So, how's married life?"

Tom thought a moment, considering the change in the conversation. "It's good, Chakotay. Really, really good."

Chakotay quashed a pang of pain and nodded. "Good."

They sat together, awkward in their silence.

"What's really wrong?" Tom asked again. "I know you. I know when something's wrong with you."

"You don't know me, Tom. No one does."

Tom considered Chakotay's quiet words, pondering the silence behind them. He leaned in closer. "I would like to."

Chakotay stared at Tom, impossible thoughts going through his mind.

/... I would like to .../

"It's too late," Chakotay replied evenly, his dark eyes never leaving Tom's face.

Tom stared at Chakotay, their gaze even and then slowly it dawned on him what the older man was saying. He felt himself pale, the full impact of what he thought he was hearing washing through him like a tide. He sat back, his eyes never leaving Chakotay's still face. "Chakotay..."

Chakotay sat back, his eyes fastened on a chair behind Tom. He stared at it, the turmoil in his mind rising and falling within the iron grip of his self-discipline. He sighed audibly, staring down at his half-eaten lunch.

"Chakotay?"

He looked up, meeting the pained eyes of the one person in the entire galaxy he was sure he could love, the only person he had ever met that *could* be the one who would make him feel complete. He stared at Tom's handsome face, his blue eyes filled with compassion and pained realization and sighed. "Chakotay, you never said a word to me."

"What's to say? We never really had a chance to be more than we are."

"You should have said something. You should have ... have talked to me."

"When? When we were enemies? When we were in the Maquis? When you were chasing half the women on this ship? Before I gave B'Elanna to you in marriage? When, Tom?"

It was silent, tomb-like and still.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? For me being a fool?"

"Chakotay ... you're not a fool."

"I am but that's my burden, Tom. You have B'Elanna and a future.

That's your path." Chakotay rose, gathering his gear. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm ... I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

Chakotay turned and walked to the recycler, stuffing his tray and dishes down the slot. Without a backward glance, he turned and left the room, leaving behind an astonished helmsman and a link that even he couldn't have imagined in a thousand lifetimes.

*****Late at night...

Chakotay stared at the shattered remains of his picture cube and shook his head. He rubbed his face and made up his mind. Turning, he walked to the door and left, walking down the hall to the lift. Entering, he called the floor he wanted and rode it down, getting out on the deck in question and walking briskly through the empty halls. Pausing before a door, he pressed the chime. For a moment there was stillness and then the door slide open. A small and slim man, black hair tousled and eyes half closed in sleep appeared dressed in a white robe.

"Commander?"

"Hi," Chakotay said, suddenly filled with sorrow and neediness.

"Are you alone?"

Tabor blinked and nodded. "Sure. Come in."

Chakotay sighed deeply and nodded, stepping past the quiet Bajoran. The door slid shut and they turned, facing each other.

"What's wrong, Chakotay?" Tabor asked, his dark eyes searching his Captain for the cause of his distress.

"I ... I ..." Chakotay paused, half-turning away.

Tabor stepped forward, turning Chakotay toward him. Chakotay's dark eyes met his, their faces close.

"I need someone tonight," he whispered, sliding his hands inside the Bajoran's robe. He touched skin, naked warm skin and he pulled Tabor closer. "I need someone to hold me tonight."

Tabor smiled slightly and nodded, stepping closer, looking up into the taller man's anguished face. "All right," he whispered as Chakotay's mouth covered his with a kiss.

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Nuclear Winter (3/5) [Book One]

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It was early when he woke up, the darkness of the room comforting. Next to him, lying alongside his body, his arms wrapped around him, Tabor slept. Warmth flashed through him, stirring his soul, the first real feeling he had since knowing the truth. He didn't move, enjoying the feel of warm flesh against his body. It had been a long time since he had made love with anyone. He had come to Tabor, the quiet Bajoran welcoming him like he knew he would. Tabor was beautiful, slim and small, and he had given himself to the younger man with almost a sense of gratitude.

He had devoured Tabor, savoring the contact with an almost appalling intensity. He had lain on warm skin, slick with the sweat of mutual passion and together they had touched and kissed, their soft voices echoing in the dark room. He had taken Tabor, moving behind him and when he came, it was hard and ragged.

Tabor had fallen forward, lying in a heap, sweat slicked and exhausted. He sprawled before Chakotay, who sat back panting with relief and release. It felt good but it was no substitute for what he wanted the most. However that would never be.

He had sat there staring at the body sprawled before him and all he could think about was someone else. He moved forward, lying down beside Tabor, rubbing his back gently with his hand.

"You all right?" he asked softly, noting Tabor's thick dark hair plastered to his face. He brushed it back, revealing bemused black eyes.

"I'm okay. Ask me tomorrow," he said, smiling as he lie face forward and still, looking upward over his shoulder at the big man beside him.

Chakotay smiled back and leaned down, kissing Tabor's shoulder. He lay back, rubbing his chest with his hand. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

"What's bothering you, Chakotay?" Tabor asked, moving to lie alongside his partner, his elbow propping him up so he could watch Chakotay's face.

Chakotay sighed. "I don't ... I can't explain it."

"You've been strange lately, sort of lonely," Tabor probed gently. He slid his hand across Chakotay's chest, fingering a dark nipple. "You seem sad."

Chakotay stared at the ceiling, silent and still.

"You love someone and they don't love you back."

Chakotay turned his head, gazing up at Tabor. He didn't dare speak, he didn't dare reveal himself and he didn't dare hurt this man.

"I'm right aren't I?"

Chakotay sighed. "It doesn't matter. Nothing really matters."

"You didn't get bad news did you? From home?" Tabor asked, rubbing his face against Chakotay's chest.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. To you." Tabor regarded him. "I've always liked you. I've always admired you. You're a good man, Chakotay. Sometimes I don't think even you know how much. I don't like to see you hurt. I don't like to see you so lonely."

Chakotay sighed and bit his lip. "Sometimes you don't get to have what you want."

"We know. No Bajoran would argue. But sometimes you have to try. Sometimes you have to have dreams."

Chakotay closed his eyes, listening to Tabor's soft gentle voice.

"I saw terrible things, Chakotay, all my life. The Maquis was the first home I ever had. You were so important to me, making me feel that I had a home and someone who cared about me. I always wanted this, giving you something back. When you're sad you can

come here."

"I can't ... I can't take advantage," Chakotay stammered, his chest tight with emotion.

"You aren't. I get scared too. You can come to me. It means something to me to take care of you. You took care of me when I needed it. Now it's my turn," Tabor said, sliding up. He leaned down and kissed Chakotay, softly brushing his lips against Chakotay's over and over. Chakotay's strong arms encircled him, pulling him up to lie on top of his bigger body. He settled down, resting peacefully as Chakotay stroked his back, running his hands up and down Tabor's body. "It'll be all right, Chakotay. You can trust me," Tabor said, closing his eyes under Chakotay's gentle touch.

Chakotay sighed. "Thank you," he whispered, heart-felt and soft.

It was quiet for a long time before they rose and showered together, silently moving about the small bathroom side by side. Chakotay dressed and walked to the door, Tabor standing beside him, waiting. He turned and took Tabor's face into his hands, leaning down and kissing him as softly and tenderly as he could.

"Thank you. You saved me tonight," Chakotay said, kissing him again.

"Then we're closer to even now," Tabor said. "Take it as down payment for all the times you saved me."

Chakotay smiled. "Sleep tight."

"I will," Tabor said, smiling as Chakotay turned and walked out of the room. The door closed and Tabor stood staring at it, his mind filled with emotions and sounds and sensations. With a deep sigh, he turned and walked to his bed to sleep.

*****The next day...

Tuvok walked to the First Officer's office, padds in hand and a grim look on his face. He nodded to others as he walked in, a night of meditation under his belt. The voice in his head exhorting him on had been stilled with effort and as he walked to Chakotay's office, he was in control of himself completely. He pressed the chime and heard Chakotay's voice calling him in. He entered and walked to the window where his superior was standing, staring out at the space beyond. "I have reviewed all the letters sent to us over the past year. In all of them there is a theme that is similar. For Star Fleet crewmembers, the information is random and varied. For Maquis crewmembers, the patterns are clear. 'We miss you, we want you home, everyone is fine'. The detail is specious, without depth and given the situation as we have come to know it, it could have been written by committee."

Chakotay sighed and swallowed, turning to meet Tuvok's eyes. He nodded. "Just as we expected."

"I have made a survey of our people, all sixty of them. It would not take a lot of effort to bring them over to us. If we have to we can call them to a location in which this can be affected."

Chakotay nodded. "The others, they worry me. We would have to neutralize the 'Fleet crew."

"Lock them down. The senior staff can be rounded up and over come. Our people are in significant places already."

Chakotay nodded. "We have two more weeks before the news comes back."

"Your contact ... you can be sure of what they say?"

"If they lied, if the Maquis is still with us, then he will send back to me proof. If it is, then we're all going to prison if we don't act."

Tuvok nodded. "I must return to my station."

Chakotay nodded. "Are you all right?"

"I have control. Meditation is helping me a great deal."

"Good," he replied, relieved. "We'll not move until we get confirmation."

Tuvok nodded and turned, walking out of the office. The door slipped shut, closing him off again. He stared at it and then he forced himself to turn and begin his endless work once again.

*****One week later …

Kathryn Janeway walked to her cabin, entering and removing her jacket. She walked to her bathroom and ran a hot tub of water and bubbles, stirring it with her hand as she thought about the ordeal to come in about a week. Her final orders would be there, telling her what to do about their return to the Federation and the Alpha Quadrant. She turned and stripped off her uniform, her body aching with the tension that had gripped her since the notice of her orders had arrived a year before. The joy of being in touch with home had turned to dust about three months later as she was told in the deepest confidence the truth about things back home. The Federation was at odds with the Maquis. They had called it that, saying that the conflict had not ended with the Dominion War. They were fighting a guerilla force, moving like shadows across the quadrant, inflicting more damage for their size and level of technology than the Cardassians did in some ways.

They were to go through the wormhole, follow ships "in honor" to Deep Space Nine, the nearest station, and then when there they would be separated and the Maquis "taken into protective custody" until their status could be determined. She was assured that this was a formality due to the situation and that they would most likely be returned to their home worlds. The original 'Fleet crew would be repatriated to their families right away. It was the way things were now. Nothing personal they implied.

She, of course, felt otherwise. But she was also regular Star Fleet. Surely they would listen to reason when she got there, handing them their logs and telling them of her crew's gallantry under long years of appalling conditions. She was sure it could be cleared up if they would listen. As it was now, she didn't dare breathe a word. If the Maquis thought that they would be confiscated upon arrival in the Federation there would be hell to pay. So, in the interests of everyone concerned, she kept it to herself.

What she didn't know is that forces had been put into play by decisions taken years before and now there would be no turning back from what would be coming. She slipped into the water, leaning back, her hair wrapped in a towel, glass of wine in hand as she relaxed. The closer they came the more tense she felt. Her nights were spent collating information about their journeys, lists of accomplishments by each of her Maquis crew. She would be ready to fight for them once they made the threshold of the wormhole. She had to be ready. Closing her eyes, she lay quietly soaking before getting out and spending the night working on her project.

*****Mail time...

Chakotay took his latest letter, noting that this time it was from a cousin he never heard of who lived supposedly in Arizona. It made sense. Arizona was part of his ancestral inheritance. He smiled and thanked Neelix, excusing himself from the Bridge. Tom watched him go, noting that he, himself had a letter from his sister this time. He watched until Chakotay disappeared, his face worried as he stared at the closing door of the lift. The older man had been avoiding him, making sure that their paths never crossed. When he would see Tom coming, he left wherever he was, moving out of sight and mind as casually as he could.

/... it's too late.../

The words echoed in his brain, disturbing him with the sadness and loneliness that they embodied. Since his marriage he had been busy with his life, weaving into his mind and day another person, their needs and expectations. They worked long hours, sure, but they still managed to be together. It was easier and harder than he had imagined, the two of them rather compatible, more so than he had hoped for.

He still had his fun and games with his friends but he also had companionship and sex and friendship and love from B'Elanna. That was warming and good. Something he never figured he would have, he had in spades. He hadn't told his family yet, deciding he had plenty of time. When he got back or when they got closer he would tell them and only then. Right now all that he had was his private domain, something that was for Voyager and Voyager alone. He sat at his helm, flying the ship, a small part of his gut in turmoil over what Chakotay had said and how he was now, alone and emotionally isolated.

It hurt. It was unsolvable. Nothing he could do would make it right. With a sigh, he glanced at his padd, smiling at the sight of his sister's name. He would read it in a while, waiting to savor the sound of her voice for the first time in nine long years.

*****First Officer's Office...

Chakotay sat at his desk, stunned, amazed and filled with so many conflicting emotions he couldn't stand up. He sat and stared into the foreground, his mind filled with screaming sounds of pain and anger. The time passed, an amount of time that had no meaning for him and by the time the door chimed he was stiff from sitting in his chair, clenching the arms in his hands. Releasing them, he sat back, deflated like a balloon. Rising slowly, he acknowledged the chime, moving toward the washbasin in his small restroom even as the door opened.

Tuvok walked in, noting Chakotay's emotional disarray and waited, knowing from experience that the human would tell him once he exerted his iron control again. Chakotay splashed his face, rubbing it as he willed feeling back, drying his face with a small white towel. Turning, he glanced at Tuvok, nodding slightly.

"Captain," Tuvok began tentatively. "I assume you have confirmation."

He nodded, taking a deep ragged breath. "Yeah. We have confirmation."

"So..." Tuvok prompted gently.

"We prepare for the trip through the wormhole. We have to be ready to leave away from the group that's going to be waiting for us on the other side. We have to make a run for Maquis territory."

Tuvok nodded. "Then we begin the reclamation tomorrow?"

Chakotay nodded. "Janeway will be telling us about the wormhole shortly."

"That is correct. She received information regarding that in this transmission. I suspect that in about four days we will be told. I expect that the crew will be with us by then."

"I'll help you. We can call them to the cargo deck a few at a time."

Tuvok nodded. "That would be most feasible."

Chakotay nodded, staring at the padd on his desk. "Very well. Contact me and I'll be there."

Tuvok nodded, hesitating. Then he turned and left, leaving Chakotay alone with his thoughts.

*****Later that night...

Chakotay lay on his side Tabor spooned behind him. He had come there earlier and they had fallen to the bed, moving against each other with a passionate need. Chakotay had expended a portion of his immediate misery, giving Tabor as good as he, himself got. They had lay together, Tabor instinctively knowing that silence was indeed the best path between them this day and when they shifted to sleep, he spooned behind Chakotay, holding and comforting him with his touch.

Chakotay sighed deeply, lying quietly. A soft kiss to his shoulder coaxed a ghost of a smile from him. He laced his fingers through Tabor's. "Thanks, Tabor," he whispered.

Tabor kissed his neck. "Sleep, Chakotay. It'll be all right."

Chakotay squeezed Tabor's hand, relaxing slightly. "If you say so, Tabor."

"I do," he whispered, snuggling closer to his old Captain.

The room was quiet as the night ticked by. It would be impossible for Chakotay to fall asleep this night. Too much was coming. He knew too much as well. It was all he could do not to cry.

=0=

Nuclear Winter (4/5) [Book One]

=0=

Bridge...

Kathryn Janeway stood on the Bridge, a padd in her hand. She stared at the screen, ignoring the people working quietly at their stations. Chakotay sat on his chair, watching her with dark eyes, his emotions under iron control. She turned and looked at him, her face curious at his direct stare. Moving closer, she sat down facing him. "You look pensive this morning."

"I didn't sleep well," Chakotay replied, his face a mask of impassivity.

"I have to talk to you. Join me in my Ready Room."

Chakotay nodded and rose, following her as she walked. "You have the conn, Tuvok."

He nodded to her, glancing at Chakotay, his eyes dark with emotion. They disappeared into the hallway, heading for her room and Tuvok watched them go. Soon they would begin the reclamation project that would bring all of them back to their right mind. Staring at the screen before him, he began the initial sweeps that would locate a stable wormhole for them to use in their final leap back to their own home space.

She walked to her couch, sitting down, her eyes focused on the quiet man standing before her. Patting the couch, she waited as Chakotay reluctantly joined her. "Is there something wrong?" she asked, her eyes focused upon him.

"I'm just tired," Chakotay replied, schooling his body and face to listen to her.

"I would like you to read this please."

She handed him the padd, watching him closely as he read it, his own face impassive. He nodded and handed it back to her, waiting for her to speak. She stared at him and then rose, walking to the replicator. Calling up coffee, she turned and looked at him. "Tea?"

He shook his head, waiting blandly for her to tell him what he already knew.

"I gave you a padd detailing a wormhole present to our current location that can most likely take us home in about a week and all you can do is sit there?"

"I don't know what to say? When did this arrive?" he asked, watching her tense body as she walked back and sat.

"I received it in the last sending of letters. I didn't want to say anything until we got close to it. I want to study it before the crew is told. We've been through this before and I don't want to build people up just to have their hopes dashed."

Chakotay nodded. "So you expect us to investigate it and then make the decision about telling or not?"

She nodded. "Precisely."

Chakotay rose and nodded. "Very well. We seem to be close to the edge of our sensor range. We better get on with it."

She stared at him and nodded, rising and watching as he turned and walked to the door. He waited, turning to watch her with a passive expression. She nodded."You go ahead. Start the sweeps. I'll be right there."

He nodded and turned, walking back to the Bridge, watching as Tuvok bent over his board, sweeping the space ahead for any sign of the anomaly. He sat, watching the console beside him and worked to center his rising anguish. In front of him Tom sat, flying the ship while Harry worked at his station equally diligently. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Kathryn walked back out, the padd in her hand. She stared at the screen, her body stiff. Turning to Harry, she cleared her throat. "Harry. Start sweeping space dead ahead for anomalies. I am seeking the signature of a wormhole."

Harry blinked at her, a surprised look on his face. "A wormhole? You know of one out there?"

"Perhaps," she said, walking slowly to sit at her station. "Look for them."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, bending over his panel.

The Bridge was silent, no one talking as they labored. Chakotay watched his station, concentrating on the data that flowed past him on the screen. He ignored Janeway, thinking about the ordeal ahead. Tonight they would begin the process of mind melds that would awaken in the crew what obviously was buried all this time. He considered Tyro Anadis, the fanatic Vedek so clearly

responsible for what was happening to him and to Tuvok. A part of him was appalled and a part of him owed a debt. Without this conditioning and that was clearly what it was, they would have crossed the threshold into a prison. Now, with their iron control, they would dictate the return in their own terms. For that, Chakotay could forgive Anadis. The moral and ethical implications of his fanaticism had taken a back seat to the terrible reality of their situation. In short, the invasion of their psyche by the fanatic had made it possible for them to not only save their own lives but do something positive for the cause that was still alive and well.

For a long time it was silent and then Harry's voice rang out.

"Captain, I'm picking up a signature ... it's a wormhole."

"Confirm it," Janeway said, her voice crisp and her eyes focused on the screen was silent and tense and then Harry spoke again.

"Confirmed."

Chakotay took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He looked at the screen, meeting Tom's eyes. Janeway rose and walked toward the conn slowly. "Mr. Paris, take us to within a million kilometers of the anomaly."

"Yes, ma'am," Tom said, turning and punching in the appropriate information.

They moved smoothly, edging through the darkness until they came upon a site that seethed with neutrinos. The wormhole itself was not in evidence and they sat quietly, staring at a normal-appearing sector of space.

"It won't be visible for two more days, Captain," Harry said, his hands dancing over the panel quickly. "It comes and goes. When it does we can send a probe through and see where it comes out."

She nodded and turned, her eyes fixed on her First Officer. His impassivity was very odd and she was worried about it. Moving to her seat, she leaned over. "You have no excitement. You worry me."

"You don't seem very excited either," Chakotay said softly.

He looked at her, feeling the betrayal filling him again. "You hardly seem happy yourself."

"We've been through this before," she replied.

"We never had the help of Star Fleet Science behind us. Obviously they know what this wormhole can do and what it can't do. We're going through it to the other side or they wouldn't have told us."

She sat quietly. "Don't you want to go home?"

"Of course," he said, his voice deliberately calm.

"Then we will," she said, glancing at him, watching his face as he stared at the screen. She rose and turned to him, gripping the padd in her hand tightly. "I'll be in my Ready Room."

He nodded and watched her as she walked away. When she was gone Chakotay turned and glanced at Tuvok. Dark Vulcan eyes met his and he nodded, moving from his station to the lift. In minutes he would be in his office and the first of ten former Maquis would be brought over by him to the truth. Once they were secure and had their orders firmly in mind, they would adjourn to Cargo Deck Four for more conversions from the unreality they had been living in for all these long years. Chakotay stared at the screen, noting the blackness of space. It never changed. He knew it wouldn't even as they exchanged the Delta Quadrant for the Alpha. It would still be dark but the possibility of creating light once again in their own lives was greater.

He sighed and rested his eyes on Tom's golden hair, noting his broad shoulders and trim form sitting as usual forward. It felt good, natural, painful and terrible to do that but he had to. In a few days he didn't know what would happen and what would be the fate of the diverse people that he had grown to love. Soon they would be home and nothing could be counted on from that moment forward.

*****Tuvok's Office...

"You called for me, Commander?"

Tabor waited in the doorway, his handsome face filled with curiosity. Tuvok looked up and nodded, motioning for the Bajoran to sit on the chair before his desk. Tabor moved, sitting on the chair, folding his hands in his lap nervously.

Tuvok walked around his desk, pausing just behind the Bajoran. Tabor sat waiting, his mind filled with the kind of non-specific guilt a person gets when a supervisor summons you and you don't know what they want.

"Commander?" he asked as a hand gripped his shoulder. It was like iron, holding him still and he was leaned back as fingers lined up on the side of his face. Pain stabbed him, stilling the cry in his throat and he closed his eyes in agony.

"Your thoughts to my thoughts ... now is the time of the awakening," Tuvok murmured as he pierced the younger man's mind. Down into the core he fell, finding and stroking awake the thing that he sought.

Tabor relaxed, his mind filling with information and passion. He sat and listened, then it all faded away. Tuvok stepped back, watching as Tabor slowly came to his senses. He had considered delivering a blow to the temple, inducing a coma that would allow their instructions to take root without danger of a struggle. However, that would involve the EMH and discovery, alerting Janeway and making things complicated. He had agreed with Chakotay, figuring out how to make the awakening happen without drawing attention to their efforts. When Tabor left, he wouldn't remember what they had done but the mere sound of the trigger expression,"Pok temphar potani" would awaken him immediately.

They would bring that trigger to the surface and at the right moment the ignition would be tripped, bringing them to the present where they would take over the ship. By the time the others caught on it would be too late. They would fly through the wormhole, controlled by the Maquis and then they would take care of what came next once they were through and on their way.

As he stood considering the complete changing of his life, the door chimed.

"Come."

The door opened and B'Elanna walked in, her dark eyes fastening upon him."You called for me?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Please, sit down on the chair."

She paused and then moved, sitting on the chair before the desk. As Tuvok turned, he considered the eight who would come after her. He moved to stand behind her and in a lightning move, he began the same process on her.

*****Later that night...

Chakotay watched as the latest shift of conversions walked out the door. Tuvok sat on a box resting himself. He had only ten more to go. They had waited in a room, getting a fictitious briefing from himself while one by one they entered the Flyer to be manipulated by Tuvok. It had been the quickest way. Fifty conversions were accomplished, ten more coming and soon they would be ready, the trigger for their final step firmly in Tuvok's control. His voice would be the one that would make it happen, his tones and his manner having been the key element imparted into each of his crew by Anadis.

Chakotay turned, watching as Tuvok centered himself. He was tired, struggling with his own demanding set of obligations and clearly needing of rest. Chakotay sighed and waited, nodding when Tuvok looked up to him. Turning to a panel, he punched in the last order for the remaining Maquis. They would be here soon and then it would be complete. All they waited for were the exact instructions and the exact moment when Voyager would take the jump. Before that happened they would make their move and then the die would be cast. There would be no turning back from that moment until the deed was done. As he stood there, the door opened and Gregor Ayala, followed by Geron-Tem, stepped into the room. Walking up to their old Captain, Gregor paused.

"You wanted to see us, Chakotay?"

Chakotay nodded and turned, gesturing them to enter a small room off the main floor. "Greg, go in there and wait for me. I want to talk to you. Geron, come with me for a moment."

They hesitated and then Gregor entered the room, leaving them alone. Turning, Chakotay walked to the main hatch of the Flyer, turning and waiting for Geron to catch up. "Go inside. Tuvok wants to talk to you. Talk to him and obey him, Tem. Trust me."

For a moment Geron just stared at him and then he nodded, trust in his eyes. Chakotay watched as the young Bajoran turned and climbed up the steps to the hold. He disappeared inside, only to return slightly dazed a few minutes later. Chakotay would take him to one side as Gregor took his turn inside. Behind him, waiting patiently in the small room off the main one, eight other Maquis stood.

*****Elsewhere...

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just have a headache," B'Elanna said, turning and dumping her dishes down the recycler.

"Do you want to go out or stay in?"

"I'm staying in," B'Elanna said, turning and looking at her husband. "You go out. Call Harry. I just want to take a long soak and go to bed."

Tom reached out and touched her head, feeling no rising warmth to indicate illness. "You're the dozenth or so person today who complained of headache," he said, puzzling at her curiously. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said, grinning broadly at him.

He nodded and grinned back, kissing her softly on the lips. "All righty, then," he said, turning and walking to the door. He paused and turned, eyeing her critically. "Comm me if you need me."

"I will," she said, smiling as he walked out the door.

As it shut she turned and walked to the bedroom, pausing before the door of her closet. Opening it, she bent down and took out a small box. Opening it, she pulled out a familiar and favorite garment. Turning, she walked to the mirror and held up the shirt, studying herself in the reflection. It had been a while since she had worn her Maquis leathers. It looked like she would still fit them if she ever had to wear them. For a moment she stared and then she frowned. Why would she think a thing like that she wondered? With a shake of her head, she turned and placed it back in the box. Pausing before her closet, she considered what to do. Then, without knowing why, she turned and put it on the dresser against the far wall. For some reason seeing it out gave her peace of mind. With that, she turned and walked to the bathroom to shower and prepare for bed.

=0=

Nuclear Winter (5/5) [Book One]

=0=

At the resort...

Tom nursed his drink waiting for Harry to arrive. The younger man hurried in, taking a drink and sitting in a chair opposite to Tom. "You look cheery. The old ball and chain let you out for the evening?"

Tom grinned. "Don't let her hear you calling her that. She'll decapitate you."

"That goes without saying, Tom," Harry said, admiring a very cleavage and ass-enhanced hologram that walked past, smiling at him as she did.

"She kicked me out."

"Trouble in paradise?" Harry asked.

"No, just a headache."

Harry considered Tom's words a moment. "Everyone seems to have headaches."

"Who else?"

Harry mentioned a number of people, rattling off names. Tom listened, matching them to the ones he already knew of himself. "That's strange. They all seem to be Maquis."

"You're Maquis," Harry reminded him.

"That's true. Must be something in environmental controls. I think we better let someone know."

"I already told Neelix. He told me he'd tell the Captain when she came in for her pie."

"Pie?"

"She hasn't been sleeping well lately. She comes in for late night pie and coffee and they talk together."

Tom nodded. "Well then, it's in good hands. So, what do you want to do?"

"Swim?" Harry asked, noting another ass and cleavage poster girl as she walked by, grinning at him broadly.

"Sure, if you can get your tongue back in your mouth," Tom said, rising.

"I can still look," Harry said haughtily, rising and finishing his drink.

"So can I, Harry. I'm just not allowed to lick," Tom said, moving toward the beach area beyond.

"You should have thought about that before you said, "I do."

"I did, Harry. I can still lick but my tongue's restricted."

"Too much information, Paris," Harry said, following along behind. "Way too much information."

*****Later that same night...

Chakotay stood by the window, Tabor asleep in the bed behind him. In less than two days they would have to take over the ship. They would be forced to do things that he never expected to do. They were a team, a group that had buried their differences but now it meant nothing. Things were as bad in the Federation as ever. The Frontier was still the whipping boy of people that didn't care one bit about them. Now, in the middle of all of that, another element had surfaced that ate at him night and day. This had been so shocking he had sat stunned for what seemed like days. It had been utterly and completely unexpected and he anguished over it every minute since. It had invaded his sleep and he found himself dreaming about things best not disturbed. He had come to Tabor's bed, the two of them making love nearly every night and it had helped, soothing his soul even as it underscored the futility of his true passion, the pilot of his ship, the man he wanted more than anyone else.

Tabor was soft and masculine, smaller than him and as pale as Tom. He had soft hair, thick and black, Bajoran hair. His body was muscular and lean, the peculiar Bajoran limitation of hair to the head making the rest of him appear to be indescribably smooth. Chakotay noted Tabor's cock, normal-sized and responsive, Bajoran cum smooth and oddly appealing in texture and flavor. He had been a man with men for most of his adult life and sleeping with Bajoran men was something he never regretted. He loved to feel the smoothness of their bodies sliding against his, the hairlessness of their balls appealing and odd at the same time. They were responsive lovers, the ridges of their noses sexual avenues of expression.

He stroked them, watching Tabor's eyes close in pleasure and he fucked him, watching him take all that Chakotay could give, moving backwards against him, driving him deeply. It had been amazing sex, amazingly relief inducing and they had taken to sleeping together each night since the first one. Chakotay stared at Tabor, imagining him Tom Paris. He imagined the blond lying beneath him, his arms and legs spread wide as he licked and bit every square inch of pale skin he could reach. He wanted to rub his face in the red curls of Tom's chest, feeling the silken fibers tickling him as he sucked Tom's nipples, biting and licking them, listening to Tom's groans and moans, the ones he knew he could coax given half a chance. He sighed, feeling an awful sense of betrayal of Tabor, thinking of another man as he was. Tom had been a long-time fantasy and Tabor was a kind and gentle reality. He was mercy fucking Chakotay, letting him take him, giving him gentleness and loving attention in return.

Chakotay walked back, sitting down beside the Bajoran, looking at him as he lay sprawled, his face turned toward Chakotay as he slept. Chakotay touched his smooth chest, stroking a nipple and watching it rise under his fingers. Dark lashes fluttered and dark eyes peered at him, strands of thick black hair cascading over a smooth forehead.

"Are you all right, Chakotay?" he whispered, stirring.

Chakotay put his hand on Tabor's heart. "Rest. I'm fine."

Tabor lay back and sighed, lacing his fingers through Chakotay's. "Sleep with me. You'll feel better."

Chakotay smiled and leaned down, kissing Tabor thoroughly on the lips. Sitting back up, he kissed Tabor's hand.

"Sleep. I'm right here."

Tabor nodded and yawned, closing his eyes and falling asleep once more. Chakotay sat beside him, watching him. Tomorrow or the next day, they would be home. Some of them would have homes and others like Tabor wouldn't. It would all fall back to him once more. He sighed and slipped into bed, pulling the shifting

figure of Tabor close into his arms. Tabor sighed deeply and fell asleep again. Chakotay lay a long time holding him before he too fell into sleep himself.

*****The next day, near to noon...

Chakotay stood in the conference room, looking outside the ship at the slowly emerging wormhole that would be taking them home. It would take another fifty minutes for the hole to fully develop and then it would be open for three days. It would be a leisurely trip home he door opened behind him and he noted Janeway's reflection on the glass.

"You're here early."

He turned and looked at her, aware in his mind that in ten minutes the ship would be locked out to her and the crew would be confined to their quarters. He waited here alone for her, prepared to take her into custody himself. As he stared at her, Tuvok's voice could be heard over the intercom.

"Pok temphar potani."

There was a pause and then he repeated himself. "The awakening is now. Pok temphar potani."

For a moment Janeway puzzled and then she looked at Chakotay, pausing with surprise at the phaser in his hand. "What's going on?"

Chakotay stared at her, a thousand moments coursing through him, a thousand shared dangers, a thousand happy times, all of it for nothing he thought bitterly. "You tell me, Kathryn."

She stared at him, her eyes darkening with injury. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. You do. That wormhole was knowledge to you for months. You *knew* that the letters we got, the *Maquis got*, were lies. The cause is alive and well and you were fixing to deliver us to Star Fleet Penal the minute we returned."

"Is that what you think?" she whispered, oceans of hurt in her voice.

"Tell me otherwise."

She stared at him, swallowing her hurt. "I was ready to go to bat for you. I was preparing, for months and months, dossiers on each of you, your accomplishments, your efforts on behalf of this ship. How dare you ... how dare you believe ..." Her voice trailed off as tears welled in her eyes.

"I dare, Kathryn. I dare because nothing you can say or do will change anything. They told us our families and friends were slaughtered. You knew they weren't. You *knew*! You never said a word, you never corrected a single word of their lies. B'Elanna was hurting herself and you never said a word. You expect me to trust you? Trust is a two-way street, *Captain*."

She stood staring at him, her mind racing through scenarios of escape even while her senses told her it was futile. "What are you going to do?"

"We're taking over the ship. My first instinct is to dump you and the 'Fleet crew on a habitable planet but I feel they deserve to go home too. They earned it, just like we did. I won't be like Star Fleet. I won't imprison you now when we're this close to home. We're going through and when we get there, if we get past the gun boats waiting for us, then we'll see." He watched her eyes as they flinched at his assertion. "You know they're waiting don't you. You know they're there."

"I have no such knowledge."

"You just lied. I've read every message received by this ship since we first got them."

She stared at him. "You don't have the authorization."

The door opened and another joined them. "I do."

Kathryn turned and gazed with total amazement. "Tuvok..."

He stood before them, dressed in his Maquis uniform. Turning his gaze to Chakotay, he ignored her. "The ship is secure. Star Fleet personnel are locked in their quarters. The command codes are changed and we're ready for further orders."

Chakotay nodded and stepped toward Tuvok, his dark eyes fastened upon the Vulcan's face. "I need to trust you," he said softly. He held out his phaser. "It's armed and set to kill. If you really are with us, if I really can trust you, fire it. Against her." He turned, his dark eyes fixed on Janeway. Greg Ayala, armed and standing in the doorway, watched them. Janeway stiffened, her face a desolation of betrayal and emotion. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered, turning to Tuvok. "Tuvok ..."

The Vulcan stared at her, taking the phaser from his Captain. Turning, he pointed it at her and fired. It fizzled, sparking and shorting out. Tuvok lowered it and turned again, giving it to Chakotay. "Your phaser is malfunctioning," he said curtly.

Chakotay nodded and tossed it on the couch nearby. He nodded at Gregor. "Take her to the Brig."

She stared at them, her emotional devastation visible on her face. She turned and stepped past them, head held high and left the room in his company. Chakotay and Tuvok watched her go and then turned to face each other. "We have to be ready. The plan must be smooth and carefully executed."

Tuvok nodded. "We are ready."

Chakotay nodded and they turned, walking out onto the ridge. On the screen the steadily growing wormhole drew them, holding their eyes as they watched the portal of their salvation form before them.

In the Brig, sitting on a bench, Kathryn Janeway slumped. She was numbed with disbelief and rage, both at Star Fleet and at the Maquis. Her ship was taken over at both ends of the galaxy and she was a prisoner in her own Brig. In the next cell she heard footsteps and listened carefully. "Captain, are you there?"

"Seven?"

"I am here. Apparently I am not deemed trustworthy either."

Janeway sighed and walked to the barrier. "Can you break us out? Is there something in your implants that can be used to counter these barriers?"

"They are well aware of that, Captain. That is why I am wearing titanium restraints. My hands are cuffed behind my back."

Kathryn felt the last shred of hope in her heart melt away and she turned, walking to her bunk. She sat, leaning back. There was nothing else for her to do but sit here and wonder how it would all turn out.

*****On the Bridge...

"Status," Chakotay asked, moving to the command chairs.

"All of the 'Fleet are locked in their quarters," B'Elanna said, turning to him. "Paris and Kim tried to make a break for it but we have them locked up safe and sound."

Chakotay stared at her a moment, the emotional disconnection in her statement odd to his ears. He turned and glanced at Tuvok.

"What is the status of the wormhole?"

"We can send in the first probe, Captain," Tuvok said, his voice smooth.

Chakotay paused, the sound of that word music to his ears. "If we do that, they will know we're coming."

"We can put a message with it that can mislead them. We can say that we won't be coming until the last day and leave the minute that it looks stable enough to take us through safely."

Chakotay nodded, turning to face the screen. "Launch the first probe. Add the message. Make sure to key in Janeway's codes."

Tuvok nodded. "Underway."

Chakotay stood and watched, noting the burst of speed blasting toward the growing mouth of the wormhole. It was the probe, heading back to their home and they waited for the echo that it would send. It might take seconds or hours, wormholes working on their own peculiar physics, time not being a consideration. He didn't know how long had actually passed but Tuvok's voice broke the silence.

"It's through. It exited in the Alpha Quadrant. The probe indicates that it is wide and stable and we should get through easily."

Chakotay sighed, oddly more tense than before. Turning, he stared at them, at the familiar faces that were his burden to carry now. "Open a ship-wide channel."

"Open," Tuvok stated, moving his hand.

"This is Captain Chakotay, assuming command of Voyager. In a couple of minutes we will be entering a wormhole that will take us home to the Alpha Quadrant. When we get there we will search out a suitable location for any 'Fleet crew that want to leave us. We will signal your location to Star Fleet so they can retrieve you. You may not know it but the Maquis on this ship were deceived. For over a year we have been receiving mail along with you that have been forgeries. The Federation told us that the Maquis cause and thousands of our friends and family were killed in the war. It was a lie." Chakotay paused, clearing his throat. "We were lied to. As a consequence, waiting at the other end to take us into custody as prisoners of war will be Federation war ships. We are to be taken to prison camps in Arizona and Kansas. That will be our homecoming to Earth if we don't make a break for it."

He sighed and looked at the screen. "The Federation is still at war with our mothers and fathers, our sisters and brothers and friends. We cannot go with you. We won't be taken prisoner. We're going in now. Buckle down for a rough ride. I will give you further information when it's available. Chakotay out." Turning, walking to his seat, he sat down, gripping the armrests in his hands."Helmsman, take us in."

The helmsman nodded and turned, moving her fingers across the panel. Voyager moved forward, edging toward the lip of the anomaly. As she did, Chakotay reflected on the biggest news, information he hadn't shared with anyone but Tuvok. His father, Kolopak of Dorvan V, was a prisoner of war, held in special detention at the Federation Prison Camp outside of Sedonia in Arizona. The Cardassians hadn't killed him. They took him prisoner, exchanging him early on in the war for prisoners of their own. He was placed in solitary, held incognito so as not to be a rallying point for the resistance.

The belief that he was killed was disseminated throughout the quadrant. For more than nine years, he had been held a prisoner, persona non grata even to his family. The only reason anyone had found out at all happened when the leaders of a growing anti-war movement wormed the information out of lower level officials in the Penal System. Making it known to the general public had led to their arrest. Among those imprisoned was a leader of a faction of dissidents from Vulcan, Tuvok's son, Sek.

Chakotay sighed and closed his eyes, unwilling to consider failure as Voyager was caught in the time eddy that flowed around the mouth of the monster before them. With a low voice, he chanted his death song softly as Voyager slipped forward into time.

TBC Book Two c2000/2010

This story is actually finished but I have to reformat it and post it. That is slow work with other things going on but I shall hurry along with it. I am also working on another segment of The Interrogation. I am checking information to keep the reality I have chosen for the story intact. Thank you for your patience.


	2. Chapter 2

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Nuclear Winter (1/5) [Book Two]

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The wormhole swallowed them even as it swallowed everything else that strayed past its event horizon. Into the distortion of the fabric of space the small gleaming ship fell, moving with incomprehensible speed along the twisting corridor of its utterly alien dimensions. Were they flying? Were they actually moving? Could one even use normal frames of reference in a situation where it was possible to move across the spectrum of time from the beginning of all things until the end? Was the mind capable of processing the visual information that formed there, a picture of a winding tunnel leading from one moment in the river of all existence to another?

He didn't think about it. He chanted the patterns of his own agony over and over, softly repeating in the distortion the death chant of his ancestors. It comforted him to attach to the unreality around them something of the familiar, something that connected him to what was important and old and family.

His father came to his mind, filling him with passion and aching pain. He had to survive, he had to go back to the stars of his ancestors and he *had* to find his father and rescue him. For him there was no other way. They moved on, slipping like a leaf along a rapidly rushing waterway, floating through the beginning and the ending, hurtling along a path that only God could create. From the ends of a desolate road they hurtled toward the fires of home, toward the open arms of loved ones.

For some, the ending would be short. For others, like Chakotay himself, the path was only beginning. He would bear the burden of the next step, pulling the ship from the grasp of the enemy, turning her toward the safety of Maquis-held space. A small map, some hurried notes hidden deep in code, that was their light through the darkness ahead and he sat in his chair, wrapped in the warmth and protection of a thousand generations of ancestors, hurtling toward a fight that could be his last.

Tuvok watched his board, the figure of his son coming to him unbidden. Even as he was awakened, the message that Anadis sent making him move through the long ago steps of another man's vengeance, he struggled to keep his center. His son, the small boy longed for and much missed, the accomplished musician, the handsome, strong son of his people, he was locked up now, like some kind of animal, and it made his blood run cold. The child he held in his arms, the child he watched take his first step, the child who went into the desert to attain his manhood, this boy was caged and he had to free him. He shoved back the emotion that filled him and concentrated on the ride through and the breakout after. Nothing could be accomplished if he failed now.

B'Elanna watched the panel before her, the information streaming past her eyes, moving through her analytical mind and sorting itself into a thousand succinct engineering statements. They were on track. Voyager was in good shape. It had only been fifteen seconds but ship standard time indicated that three hours had passed. She couldn't tell herself, the feeling of a long time moving in tandem with the thought of a few brief seconds. It was all relative she thought grinning briefly at the idea of Einstein and his ilk actually making a small appearance in her mind. It was fitting she thought before she closed her mind to distractions. Only the moment and the mission mattered. Nothing else in the universe came close.

The passage wasn't missed by everyone, all those with windows looking at the whirling colors and odd unexplainable distortions flashing past. Tom and Harry stood looking, noting that they were moving through a wormhole but utterly without hope of affecting any changes to the plan put in motion.

Tom stared, his mind in a whirl. They had been locked up and B'Elanna was some place, working for the Maquis. He considered what Chakotay had said over the comm system, he considered how pained the older man's voice had been. They had been deceived. That was clear. If they had deceived the Maquis, having a prison party waiting for them, what did it all mean for him? Would he go to prison too? Turning, he sat, watching the parade from a more comfortable place. He sighed, drawing Harry's attention. The younger man rose and walked to a chair, flinging himself back into it too. "Harry, if they lied to the Maquis, I wonder if they lied to me too."

"Your father wrote to you. He wrote you letters."

Tom snorted, shaking his head. "My father ... the inimitable Admiral Paris ... he wrote them didn't he ... and we *all* know that *he* would never lie."

"You won't go to prison, Tom. You *won't*. It would never happen. Your father, he would never let it happen."

"Why not? We didn't actually leave on glowing terms."

"Tom, he won't let you go back to prison. If you're worried about it, go with the Maquis."

Tom was silent a moment. "I don't know if they would take me."

"Your *wife* is a Maquis. What are you saying?"

"Who do you think ordered the lockdown when we tried to break out?"

There was silence a moment.

"You know, Tom, there were plenty of times I was really scared. There were times I was mad. It was part of the trip. But this ... I'm scared, Tom. I mean, I'm really scared down deep. I don't want to die, not this close to home. I want to go to the beach and stick my feet in the Pacific. I want to hug my parents and see my home."

Tom reached over and took Harry's hand, squeezing it tightly. He sighed deeply, holding Harry's hand in his. "We will, Harry. No one deserves it more than us."

Harry tightened his grip on Tom's hand. "You sound like an optimist," he said, swallowing hard.

"There's always a first time, Har."

They sat together, going through the endless stream of timelessness as they waited to return to their home.

**********Far away...

The desert sun was astonishingly hot and it burned down equal time on the men and women that toiled in the huge vegetable garden and those watching them do the work. They moved along the rows, hoeing and turning the soil, pulling weeds and tending the little green shoots. One of them paused, wiping sweat from his eyes. His long gray hair was tied back, pulled from his handsome face. It was past his shoulders now, slightly curly and thick. It was beautiful, like he was elegant and distinguished, something imprisonment couldn't destroy.

Kolopak of Dorvan V, a scholar and historian, folklorist and paleo-anthropologist toiled alongside his companions, the leadership of the Maquis and other political prisoners of the Rebellion. They had been gathered here, hidden in the desert of his wife's ancestors against the time when they either died or were necessary for some purpose or other. None of them were known to be alive. All of them were said to be killed, some of them years before in the war that had finished for everyone but them.

Kolopak had been captured and held by the Cardassians. He had been kept with surprisingly good care by the Gul, Dukat. The Cardassian had pretensions of civility, of great and noble intensions and he had treated Kolopak with something bordering on reverence, one 'peer' to another. He sighed, remembering the long rambling monologues he had endured even as he waited to die. Every night he had prayed to the spirits to have the strength and resolve to meet his life as a warrior if that was to come. Every day was a new one to endure, the tension of his captivity alleviated only by memories of his wife and children.

Behind himself he could hear the guards talking, bored and hot, standing around together. Around them the desert loomed, blocking them from even the attempt to hope. For nine years he had endured this place, working to produce his own food even as he labored in secret to write the memoirs of his captivity. Someday, he hoped, his wife and children would know where he was and what had happened to him. Sighing with tedium, he turned and bent to his task.

*****Monterey, California...

John Kim walked to his desk, noting the ocean breakers beyond his window. He was a much in demand botanical architect, someone that people sought out for the perfection of his landscapes. His knowledge of flowers was encyclopedic and his ability to make things grow together was remarkable. He stared at the ocean, wondering once again what was happening with Harry, his only child. They had received no word of him, their enquiries meeting with polite letters of sympathy. Some place in this universe was his beloved son and he had no information about where and what was happening to him.

It shook his faith. It made him weak. His wife had been made frail from the burden of the uncertainty and he had become closer to her from it. He had turned to her in his desolation and they were more of a couple than ever before. It hadn't been so for others who had children and friends on the Voyager. The Ayalas had divorced, the stress of losing their son undoing rather than cementing their ties. Others had too, some separating to grieve in isolation. They kept in touch, this association of mourners and dared to believe, at least among themselves, that they would see their loved ones again. He sat and sighed, looking at the work on his desk. When he was finished he would leave here and go home, taking his wife for a walk along the beach. The same beach, he thought, that his son had taken his first step.

*****On the edge of secured Federation space...

They sat waiting, the message of the arrival of their quarry being received. The probe from Voyager, traversing thirty-five thousand light years - an unbelievable distance to all involved - had arrived twenty-five seconds after it was sent. The message had Janeway's codes and it said that they would be coming at the end of the hole's cycle rather than right away. It had been disconcerting to the three ships that were waiting. They had hoped to make the strike and leave before the rim found out they were here.

They were part of the special deep space reconnaissance group that carried out covert operations along this, the most dangerous part of space in the quadrant. They were fast, competent and prepared to do anything they were told to. As it was, given Janeway's message, they had two and a half days of waiting ahead of them and except for deep sensor sweeps, they stood down their vigilance a notch or two. The crews relaxed, returning to a different mindset, one that would allow them to divert themselves. At the moment of contact they would be ready. Of course, they weren't.

*****On the Bridge...

They came out of the wormhole twenty-five seconds after they went in, flying out like a frisbee. From the kaleidoscope, they emerged and slipped through the net like a fish through a straw. Chakotay was on his feet and at the conn before anyone moved. The pilot rose and made room for him. Calling out to Tuvok, the two men punched in the pre-arranged coordinates and before the other ships could react, Voyager streaked to warp.

It took them three minutes to assimilate and plot the course that Voyager took, their brief hesitation just that. By the time they moved to follow her, they were dangerously close to the point of no return, the active front beyond which they would not be able to follow. Voyager, herself, would be halfway to the safety of Maquis country. Chakotay sat, his fingers flying across the board. Behind him, Tuvok and B'Elanna gave him all that they could, shields raised behind and warp engines working at one hundred and five percent. Behind them, in hot pursuit, three Federation war ships followed.

"Voyager, this is Captain Silva of the Federation Star Ship Carroway. We order you to halt."

Chakotay ignored them, following with machine-like precision the course that his people had sent to him in a coded letter. They zoomed ahead, the gap between them widening as he punched her up. The ships behind, fully capable of matching her in speed stepped it up too.

"Voyager, if you don't stand down we will be forced to fire on you."

"Tuvok, shields?"

"At one hundred percent," the deceptively calm voice replied.

The blow that rocked them followed the flash of light behind them and Tom and Harry hurried to the window to watch. They could see the energy arc off the shields and they knew they were being pursued by Federation ships.

"Chakotay was right. They intend to arrest us."

Tom glanced at Harry, gripping the wall as he did, the flash of energy that followed blinding.

"We didn't *do* anything!" Harry cried, his face filled with an agony of anxiety and rage. "We're not *criminals*!"

"Tell that to them," Tom said, barely staying on his feet as the ship rocked again.

As they flashed through the night, three ships in pursuit, the message to the Maquis that Tuvok had sent upon their re-entry was received. Ships launched, heading into the night as Voyager edged closer to the line that divided safety from capture.

"Shields?" Chakotay called out, flying in a maddeningly random pattern, missing some hits and taking others. Around him the ozone smell of burning circuits filled the air.

"Holding!" Tuvok answered, his fingers flying as they brought phasers to bear. "Phasers on line!"

"Fire at will!" Chakotay hollered, moving slightly to miss a bright bolt of energy.

The ship shuddered, a bolt of energy generated by Voyager streaking out to meet a target. It hit the lead ship, splintering hull as it pierced the shields of the small fast destroyer. More bolts met them and Chakotay angled to miss them, mostly succeeding.

"We're venting plasma!" B'Elanna cried out, working to seal the leak and reroute energy away from the hit. "They're trying to target our nacelles!"

As they did, bolts flashed toward them out of the darkness ahead and streaked past them, hitting targets beyond. Maquis fighters, ten of them flashing past, headed for the three ships that chased Voyager, engaging them in a furious fight until they pulled back, one of them venting plasma of its own from a damaged warp nacelle. Voyager streaked on, followed by the fighters flying escort for her as they disappeared into Maquis territory. Onward and swiftly, they dashed toward the sanctuary of a base that was expecting them safety just kilometers away.

Chakotay rose and handed over the conn to his pilot, rushing to the ops station to check ship's status. He noted that they had taken hits but nothing too deadly. Obviously the 'Fleet ships had orders to take them with as little destruction as possible. He turned and looked at Tuvok, the Vulcan raising his head to meet Chakotay's glance. "We made it."

"Yes, Captain, we did," Tuvok said, releasing a deeply held breath.

In the Brig, Kathryn Janeway stopped pacing, listening to the great heart of her ship. They were running smoothly, heading in a straight line for a destination she didn't know. Her ship had held, Chakotay bringing her through and now they were most likely deep in Maquis territory. She sighed and stood, dejected and enraged. What would happen next she didn't know. Chakotay said he would let them off but she didn't trust his word. He was different, a man she couldn't read and he had convinced Tuvok, *her* Tuvok, to go along with him.

What incomprehensible thing could make Tuvok do this? She had no idea. Sitting down on the bench, staring at the floor, she found herself joyless. She had known they would return for more than a year. Yet sitting here, finally in their own quadrant, she had no pleasure, no joy, no hope. She was a prisoner in her own Brig, held captive on her own ship. She was held by the people that she had grown to love, even cherish. Betrayed from all sides, returned to god knew what, Kathryn didn't stop the tears that slid from her eyes. She sat in her Brig and cried without a sound.

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Nuclear Winter (2/5) [Book Two]

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Chakotay moved to the conn, turning to sit once more. He checked the space around them and noted that all ten of the fighters had made it back with them. Relaxing slightly, he opened a comm channel. "This is Captain Chakotay. We made it back to the Alpha Quadrant." He paused, swallowing hard. "We made it back." For a moment he sat quietly, thinking about the magnitude of what had happened. Then he opened the channel again. "We made it back. For the Maquis crew among us, we're going to a place where we'll be safe. If there are those among you in the 'Fleet crew who have relationships with Maquis, you may come with us. For those among the 'Fleet crew who wish to stay with us, you're welcomed. The rest of you will be sent down to a safe place with a beacon set to the Federation side of the DMZ. The Maquis will guarantee the safety of any ship that comes for you." He paused again, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. "This isn't the way I wanted us to return home. I wanted us to come home to peace together but the Federation won't allow it to happen. So ... this is the best we can do. I wish you all the best of luck."

He switched off the comm system, staring at the screen in front of him. Sighing deeply, he rose and turned, walking to the lift.

"Tuvok, you have the conn."

He entered and rode the lift to the Brig, stepping out and walking down the corridor to the door of the Brig. Entering, he walked to the cell that held Janeway. She sat on the bench, her head hanging as she awaited whatever would come. He stood in front of her, staring at her, wondering how fate could have such a sense of humor. "Kathryn, we made it."

She didn't move for a moment and then her head raised, her eyes staring at him with an unreadable expression. "So ... we're back in the Alpha Quadrant ..."

"Yes," Chakotay said, nodding. "I'm going to let you off with the rest of the 'Fleet crew that requests it. We will make sure that the Federation picks you up."

She stared at him, biting her lip. "So, this is how it ends?"

He stared at her, considering her situation. He was sure if the situation were reversed, he would be dulled with rage too. However, he couldn't consider it. She had betrayed him, all of them and now they were as outcast as they were in the Delta. Only this time they had made their own move and they would avoid the fate that she knew awaited them. "We will send for you when it's time."

He turned to go and she rose, moving to the barrier. "What about all the times we worked together? What about all the dangers we went through? You were my right arm! You were my rock! I thought we were friends!"

Chakotay paused, turning slowly, his own eyes glittering. He stepped back, moving slowly to stand in front of her. He considered her, pondering her point of view. "You were never my friend or you would have told me that you knew my father was alive."

She stared at him, her face paling. The last secret she held, the final particle of her knowledge, he knew. She blinked, lowering her eyes with a flicker of shame and distress. "I couldn't. I didn't know how. How could I tell you out there, alone and lost? What would it have done to you to know that was so?"

"They *told* you and you never said a word. You never told Tuvok that his son was in prison trying to free the dissidents. They *told* you that!"

"*And it was my burden*! *I carried it alone*! How could I tell you? How could I tell a father that his son, his wonderful son was in prison! You tell me how?"

He stared at her, his insides filled with a cold sick feeling of despair. "You open your mouth, Kathryn, and you say it."

They stared at each other, the chasm between them wide and unbridgeable. He turned and silently walked to where Seven stood, her hands manacled behind her, her back rigid with dignity. "Seven, we want you to know that you can stay with us if you choose. The Federation in my opinion can't be trusted to let you live normally. You're Borg. They might just dismantle you to find out how you tick. The Federation, if I still am correct, are not at peace with the Borg."

She stood a long time staring at him, her emotions moving across her face. "May I have time to think on it?"

Chakotay nodded. "Of course." He nodded to her and then turned and walked to the door, leaving them behind alone. Kathryn turned and walked stiffly to the bench, sitting down on the pad. She sat back her face filled with sorrow and stared into the foreground, lost in thought.

*****Down the corridor...

The door opened and he stepped inside, noting the two men that slowly rose and faced him. Moving to stand before them, he paused. "We're home."

Harry's face crumpled and then he pulled himself together, nodding. Tom glanced at Harry and then back at Chakotay. "Wild ride."

Chakotay nodded, sighing wearily. "We're safe now. I'm prepared to set you down someplace where the Federation can pick you up if that's what you want."

Harry glanced at Tom and nodded. "I *have* to see my parents."

Chakotay nodded and reached out, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

"I know."

"What about you? What about the Maquis?" Tom asked, his face carefully schooled to hide his growing unease. "We're stuck here. We're Maquis. There's no choice for us. We have to stay and fight."

"And B'Elanna? Is she stuck too?" Tom asked.

Chakotay stared at him, memorizing his features for all the days ahead when he wouldn't be able to see Tom, when he would be all alone with nothing but memories. "I can't speak for her. You'll have to. If you stay, I could use a pilot."

"You want me to fly Voyager? To be a Maquis again?" Tom asked, incredulity filling his voice in spite of things.

"Why not? What happens to you now? Prison?"

Tom paused, his face forming a cold mask. "Prison? Well, I don't know. You seem to have all the answers. Why don't you tell me?"

Chakotay stared at him, his face a mask too. Inside, he wanted to scream, to release the misery that formed a pool of pain in his chest. Instead, he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a small padd, holding it out to the pilot. Tom hesitated and took it, watching as Chakotay turned without a word and walked from the room. They stared at the door and then each other. Finally, Tom stared at the padd, opening it and reading it. When he was done, he tossed it on the table, turning and walking to the window, rubbing his face as he coaxed feeling back into it.

"What did it say?" Harry asked, picking it up and turning to Tom.

"It says that I'm going back to prison. Apparently the Penal code doesn't allow time off to Maquis traitors for good behavior."

"Your father!" Harry exclaimed, searching the padd for information. "*Surely*, your father can do something."

"No, Harry, he can't. Apparently when it comes to Maquis, the normal laws don't apply. I'm to go to Auckland and finish out my sentence."

Harry stared at Tom, at the lanky man standing next to the window, his face pale and his manner stiff. He stared at the man he loved like the brother he never had, like the best friend he would ever know and he felt his heart break. Turning, he sat slowly, staring at the damning document in his hand. "This was addressed to Captain Janeway."

Tom turned and leaned against the wall, licking his dry lips.

"She knew about this three months ago, Tom."

Harry looked up and met Tom's eyes. "How could she know about this and not tell us? How could she *do this* to us? We're ... we were a family. *Weren't we*?"

Tom sighed and walked over, sitting down and gently taking the padd from Harry's hand. He stared at it, at the address of the recipient and felt his heart break. "I guess we weren't really, Harry."

They sat together quietly for a moment and then a hand gripped Tom's arm gently. Tom looked up and met dark eyes, eyes filled with torment and emotion. "I'm staying."

"Harry," Tom began.

"No. I'm staying. I can't go, Tom. How can I go when you can't? How can *any* of us go?"

Tom glanced away, tears stinging his eyes. "I don't know, Harry. I really don't know."

*****On the Bridge...

"A message is coming in for you, Captain," the Ops Officer said, glancing over at the Captain's chair where Chakotay sat. He nodded and rose. "Send it to my Ready Room."

He walked slowly across the room, entering Janeway's office. Sitting down heavily in her chair, he rubbed his face. Then with a deep sigh, he reached over and hit the comm button. A familiar face filled the small screen. As he stared tears slipped from his eyes, rolling down his face unashamedly. "Hello, Chakotay," a soft familiar voice said.

Chakotay reached out and touched the screen, momentarily speechless. "Bey ..." he whispered softly. "Beyvahl ..."

*****A short time later…

They slipped into port, the secured base filled with ships and activity. Refugees had made this their staging point, a jumping off place for other, more secure locations. All kinds of aliens traveled in and out of here, escorted by fighters or not. Voyager hove into port, her gleaming white hull a beacon for every eye around. They pulled into their slot, shutting down all non-essential systems. As they did, four Maquis beamed aboard. Met at the transporter room by security and Tuvok, they exchanged greetings and followed the party to the Bridge. Stepping onto the Bridge, Beyvahl of Dorvan V, Intelligence Chief of the Maquis and a member of the Revolutionary Council, surveyed the place his younger brother had served all these long lost years. Turning, he followed Tuvok across and into a room where a tall man was standing, staring out the window at the activity all around them. Turning, he paused, a look of intense emotion filling his face. "Hello, Chakotay."

Chakotay stared at him, at the beloved older brother of his growing up, the oldest sibling in his family and then he covered the distance between them, throwing his arms around Bey's neck and holding him. They stood together, holding each other and no one moved in the room. For an eternity they stood, their arms tightly holding and then Chakotay stepped back, staring with anguish at his brother. "Bey, you're alive. Mama? The others?"

"Everyone is fine. Chakotay, everyone is fine."

"Papa ..." Chakotay couldn't finish. He stopped, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

"We know. The resistance on Earth, aided by the anti-war movement found out where he is. We don't dare tell the media. They could move him. He's there with all the others."

"My son ..." Tuvok ventured, stopping short of more.

"He tracked the information down, finding the camp. They arrested him and tried him in a drumhead court. He's imprisoned there as well," Bey said, staring at Tuvok with compassion. Tuvok nodded, swallowing around the pain in his heart. "We have to talk, Chakotay. There is much to do. This ship will be helpful."

"We have to get Papa out of prison. We have to get Sek."

"We will," Bey said soothingly.

"We have a lot of 'Fleet people that we have to take care of. I said they would be let off and the Federation allowed to come to get them."

Bey nodded. "There's a mining camp on the Federation side of the DMZ that we can drop them off at. The Federation will be able to come get them there."

Chakotay nodded, suddenly weary beyond comprehension. "You look terrible. Right now, let's eat and talk," Bey said, turning and including Tuvok. "Then we can take the 'Fleet crew away and get the Federation to take them off our hands."

Chakotay nodded and turned, staring outside once more. It had been seven years lost and two years before that. Nine years was a long time to be alone. He turned and smiled. "It's good to see you again."

Bey smiled and squeezed Chakotay's arm. "It's good to see you too. Lead us to a place to eat around here."

Chakotay nodded and turned, the crowd following behind. They went to the Mess Hall, sitting and eating replicated food as they spent the next four hours talking strategy and catching up on news.

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Nuclear Winter (3/5) [Book Two]

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First Officer's Cabin, late that night...

He came in, tired and filled with images of things that had changed, things that hadn't and all the myriad responsibilities that once had been his and were again. It was dark and he stood for a moment, shadows caused by the weak light of the window casting long pools of gray before his feet. He sighed and walked to a chair, sitting and pulling boots and socks off.

Rising, he tossed his vest and other things on the chair, turning and walking toward the bedroom. He paused in the doorway, unbuttoning his shirt as his eyes took in the feast laid out on his bed. The starlight from the window above the bed showered its weak glow over Tabor. The younger man was sleeping, lying naked on the bed, his arms sprawled and his legs slightly spread. He was pale and soft looking, shaped by the dimness, his head turned away from Chakotay.

The light rounded his contours, his smooth chest and his legs. His cock lay flaccid against his thigh, his hairless balls as well, and Chakotay flashed on the taste and texture of them both, his lips and tongue lingering over their smooth silken surfaces. He shifted, leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes lingering over Tabor's body.

He was compact, his muscular body smooth and light, typical of Bajoran men. They were an interesting species, the Bajorans. The women were stronger than the men, their evolution making it so and the average Bajoran woman could out lift, outlast and out punch their men. It was a fact not lost on Chakotay. He knew he was stronger than Tabor and that fact was a tease in his mind that amused him some times.

His dark hair, thick, black and soft as silk spilled over his face, obscuring his features. Chakotay looked up the curve of his neck, yearning to nuzzle that soft silk and up to the side of Tabor's face. He had a handsome face, even beautiful, and soft lips. His dark eyes were kind and gentle, eyes that told much about his interior. He remembered when they were filled with rage, the day he told Chakotay in his office that the Cardassian doctor that could save B'Elanna from an alien parasite was the same one who killed his grandfather, his only remaining relative from the Cardassian occupation of his planet.

He had eyes that reflected everything, his quiet nature, his anger and his passion. Chakotay sighed, remembering dark eyes smoky with passion. He considered the kindness of Tabor, his willingness to give tenderness to Chakotay and he felt warmth. It wasn't the same as he felt about Tom, the fiery passion that ignited in him when he didn't guard himself. This was gentle and kind, soft and tender. It saved him now, with all his turmoil and he felt an intense gratitude toward Tabor, a different kind of love.

He turned and walked out, moving silently so as not to disturb Tabor. He pushed the ottoman against the couch and flopped, stretching out his legs. He closed his eyes, fully intending to just rest and drifted off to sleep. It was quiet in the room when he jerked awake. He didn't know how long he had lain there but he felt someone else nearby. Looking up he noted a pale figure, half covered in a white robe.

"Hi."

"Hi," Chakotay murmured, his eyes focusing slowly in the dim light.

Tabor stood before him, naked but for a robe that hung open on his body. His hair was sleep tousled, falling across his forehead boyishly. Chakotay sighed, drawn by his exotic beauty and he reached out, reaching inside Tabor's robe, resting his hand on his smooth hairless thigh. Tabor smiled and moved closer, his cock brushing against the back of Chakotay's hand.

"Come here," Chakotay whispered.

The younger man smiled and moved carefully, straddling Chakotay and leaning forward, pressing his mouth against the older man's. Chakotay slipped his hands inside Tabor's robe, gripping his ass as he pulled him closer, deepening the kiss lingeringly. Tabor sighed, his eyes half open as he gazed at Chakotay, his libido rising to the care Chakotay was giving to his ass. "You have nice hands," he said, smiling.

"You have a nice ass," Chakotay replied, nuzzling Tabor's neck.

The younger man grinned and slipped his fingers through Chakotay's hair, holding him as he sucked the soft skin of his neck. He knew he would have marks there the next day. Of course, most of the times they were together he had a mark some place. Chakotay sat back, looking at Tabor as he rubbed the younger man's thighs with his hands. "You look tired," Tabor said, sighing.

"I feel old."

"You don't look it. You don't act it. It's a state of mind, Chakotay."

"My mind is old then," Chakotay said, grinning broadly. He stared at Tabor, noting how his robe had slipped off one shoulder. He reached up and pushed the other side back, revealing his chest and its smooth muscular contours. He reached up and stroked dark nipples, watching as Tabor's pleasure played across his face. "That feels good," he said, looking at Chakotay with affection. He had not fallen into men before, the idea of loving a man outside of his natural inclination. However, a quiet man with little confidence in others intentions -a typical Bajoran Maquis trait brought about by the war and occupation- he still gave himself to Chakotay. Tabor trusted him, he liked and respected him and he thought him beautiful, physically and spiritually. There were no taboos among the Bajorans regarding men together, or women. Love was never in such abundance that one kind or the other was considered off the righteous path.

When Chakotay came to him, needy and distressed, his natural decency had taken over and he had given himself to the older man, finding in doing so that he enjoyed it. Chakotay was private and dignified, a lot like himself and he enjoyed being with him, making love and talking together afterwards. He would not turn him away and after a while had taken to coming to his bed, waiting for him to love him or just hold him. It helped both of them right now.

He had no home of his own to go to. On Voyager he had friends, almost a family of people that he had met, not only in the Maquis but among the 'Fleet people. They were his family now and he was glad to have the decision of what to do after Voyager put off, even under their current circumstances. Later, he would decide what to do.

Later.

He kissed Chakotay, savoring the sweetness of his lips over and over and then he sat back, staring at the flushed face of his lover. "Come to bed. Let me rub your back."

Chakotay smiled, nodding. Tabor rose and extended his hand, taking Chakotay's and pulling him to his feet. They walked together, pausing beside the bed. Tabor stilled Chakotay's hands, unbuttoning the shirt he wore and pushing it off his broad shoulders. It pooled at his feet, followed by his pants and shorts and when he was naked, Tabor moved to hold him. Chakotay's hands roamed Tabor's back, his body molded against him and he felt desire rising amid the ashes of his emotional disarray. Moving slowly, he lay down on the sheets, pulling Tabor into him as he kissed his shoulder, his neck and his chin. He kissed Tabor's soft lips, sucking and savoring them, feeling intense pleasure at the soft sounds he coaxed from the quiet man beside

him. "You're beautiful," Chakotay said, brushing Tabor's hair from his eyes.

Tabor smiled and sighed. "But I'm not Tom."

For a moment Chakotay paused, his eyes searching Tabor's face for hurt. Tabor leaned forward and kissed him. Then he smiled.

"It's okay. For now it's what we both need. It doesn't have to be more."

"I don't want to hurt you or use you. You mean too much to me for that."

"I know," Tabor said, sliding his leg over Chakotay's hip, moving closer to his warm body. "You aren't. We're friends, Chakotay. I would never do this if we weren't and I know you would never hurt me. For now, it's what we have and all that we need."

Chakotay nodded, pulling Tabor closer. "You're beautiful and kind. I love you."

"I know," Tabor said, smiling again. "I know."

Chakotay rolled over, staring down at the beautiful face and gentle eyes that looked up at him. He shifted, his leg moving between Tabor's and he watched as the dark eyes closed in pleasure. He sighed and leaned down, kissing softly along Tabor's collarbone, rising to his neck and then his lips, kissing him with increasing passion. Tonight they would make love and lay together, talking and relaxing. Tomorrow would bring its own problems. For now what they had was all they both needed.

*****Next day, hangar deck...

They stood together, all ninety of them, surrounded as they were by armed Maquis. It was a very strange thing, standing on one side of an invisible barrier, facing friends and colleagues who were prepared to shoot you. They stood ilently, the tension very high as the door opened and Tuvok entered, followed by Chakotay, Greg Ayala and Ken Dalby. They stopped and surveyed the crowd, Chakotay's face filled with tension and emotion. He stepped forward, standing before them. "This isn't the way I hoped it would be when we got back. It isn't the way I wanted us to end. However, that decision and choice was taken away from us by a Federation-Star Fleet deception. They told us that the Maquis were finished, that they were over. Thousands of our friends and family and neighbors were supposed to be dead or in prisons.

"They aren't. They're here and they're fighting for the same thing that they fought the Cardassians for, their homes, their planets, their cultures and families and rights. The Federation revoked our citizenship. They put our people in prison without trial and we all exist out here under martial law. My own home world, Dorvan V, is a staging area for Federation troops and my mother is under house arrest in our family home. My sisters and brothers-in-law and all of our children are on the run, one step ahead of disappearing into the prison camps of the Federation penal system.

"You have a choice. The Maquis don't. However, knowing that, I want you to know that you're welcome to stay with us. Some of you have friendships and relationships, a few of you are married to Maquis. We hope you stay. You're welcome. If you don't want to go back, if you're Star Fleet people who want to stay, I will be personally grateful.

"If you have to go, I will understand. I wish you well. I hope you get home to your families and loved ones. A Federation ship will get you and take you home. We have arranged it. Talk it over and make up your mind. If I never see you again, I want you to know that I was proud to serve with you. I wish you all a good life wherever you go." Chakotay swallowed hard and turned, walking away from the group and out the door, followed by a tense and hard-looking Tuvok. The group stood quietly for a moment and then turned to each other, tears and crying heard here and there. For a half hour they talked and then Greg stepped forward. "If you have to go, come here please."

Joe Carey stepped forward, anguish on his face. "I don't want to go, Greg, but I have to. I have a wife and two kids. I have to see them. If it wasn't for that, I would stay."

"I'm staying."

Everyone turned, staring with shock and surprise at Harry Kim. Harry sighed and stepped forward, his own face equally anguished.

"Tom is going to go to prison if he goes back. I can't go back to my life knowing that. His own father, *an admiral in Star Fleet* ... he can't get the ruling changed. If *he* can't, what does it mean for the rest of us? You *know* me. You know what I want more than anything. But I tell you know, I'm staying."

They stood quietly and then, slowly and hesitantly, people stepped toward Greg until forty people stood with him.

Nodding to the ones who would be staying, Greg turned and escorted them out of the hangar deck. Ken Dalby stood watching, his rifle lowered. He turned to the others, his eyes red with unshed tears. He shifted his feet and cleared his throat. "You can go," he said, his voice hoarse. "Thanks for staying." The poignancy of his remarks cut like a knife and they began to move, walking slowly toward the door. Tom, standing stiffly nearby moved past Harry and hurried off, heading down the corridor to the lift. He entered and turned his heart pounding. "Engineering."

The door closed and he disappeared. Harry watched him, noting that B'Elanna had not come to find out what would be Tom's decision. At that moment he felt more pain than he figured he could bear. With slow steps and an aching heart, he turned and walked down the corridor to his cabin. He had to sit in the dark and mourn before he could face the world square on again.

Ken watched them go, his own feelings washing through him. At no time in his life did he feel such a strong and deeply abiding connection to any group of people before, even the Maquis. These people had an escape and they didn't take it. He would not forget this day as long as he lived.

*****Minutes later...

Sam Wildman packed, tears streaming down her face. Her inquiry about her husband had come back true. He was alive and waiting for them. Neelix watched her, his own sorrow enormous. He was staying and she would too if but for her husband. Naomi sat, holding her blue doll, her eyes wide as her mother put their life into two cases. Sam turned and looked at Neelix. "I'll send for you, when we see what happens. If it doesn't ... if it's not what we hope, I'll come back. You're my family, Neelix."

He nodded and smiled, hiding his hurt and loss. "Well then, I guess we better go."

Naomi rose and took his hand, looking from one to the other as she struggled to understand that Voyager, her birthplace and only home, was going to be a relic of a past she no longer belonged to. With heavy hearts, the three stepped out into the corridor and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

=0=

Nuclear Winter (4/5) [Book Two]

=0=

Later...

Harry stood in front of his mirror, noting his new change of uniform. He wore Maquis leather and earth tones and even though it fit him well and showed off his body to good affect it felt alien to him. Tom had left him at the door of the hangar bay, heading off to find B'Elanna. He had gone ahead, walking numbly to his cabin. He wanted to disappear for a while, slipping into the silence of his cabin for a moment to gather himself together. He had put them on, jumping into what was inevitable with gritted teeth. He turned and walked to the desk, sitting and calling up a screen. He stared at it, gathering his thoughts together. Finally, leaning forward, he began to record. "Mama and Dad, this is Harry..."

*****Engineering...

Tom tracked her down, entering Engineering and after looking around in the doorway, spotted her heading for her office. Moving quickly across the floor he climbed the stairs and caught her at the top. She turned, his hand on her elbow stopping her, and looked into his eyes. "Tom. You've decided to stay."

He stared at her, blinking. "You ... you don't ..." He stopped and turned, pulling her into her office. The door closed and Tom turned, staring at her with turmoil inside his heart. "What's going on? B'Elanna, you ordered us *locked up*. *Me*! Your *husband*!"

B'Elanna stared at him and then turned, tossing the padd in her hand onto the desk. Turning, she folded her arms, staring coolly at him. "You were trying to break out. You were trying to stop us."

Tom looked at her, her tone rendering him speechless for a moment. "I was trying ... I was *trying* to ... to ..." He stopped, staring at her for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Then he stepped forward, gripping her arms. "B'Elanna, what the *hell* is the matter with you?"

She stared at him and then pulled back. "I'm a Maquis, Tom. I'm one of the many that the Federation has decided aren't worth very much. I have to help my people."

Tom stared at her, his eyes searching her face for something warm and familiar. "B'Elanna ... don't you hear yourself? Don't you see what you've become? What about ... about *us*?"

She looked at him, a flicker of something warm emerging in her eyes. "We're still us, Tom. But the Maquis come first."

He stared at her, stepping back. "The *Maquis*?" he asked, his face filling with disbelief and pain. "How can *the Maquis* be first?"

She stared at him and then turned, picking up her padd. "It is," she said, turning and looking at him again. "It *has* to be. We have another chance, *we're still here* and I *won't* let it slip through my fingers again."

"So," Tom said, reeling. "So, that's that. If there's any time left over you and I will be together but if there isn't then, well ... that's the way it is."

"Something like that, yes," she replied, turning her face away from him. He stood there looking at her, waiting for her to change her mind but she wasn't going to. He clenched and unclenched his hands as he stood, hovering. There was nothing more to say. "Do we *live* together still or what?" he asked, his voice tremulous.

"Of course," she replied. "We are married after all."

He stared at her, mystified and frightened and then he turned and hesitatingly walked out the door. He hurried down the stairs and across engineering. Out the door he hurried and nearly ran for the lift beyond. He stood for a moment, his mind in a panic and then finally he told the computer his destination. "Computer. Sick Bay."

*****On the base below...

Chakotay walked through the corridors, passing people he knew and didn't know. He headed for his brother's office, the defacto headquarters of the Revolutionary Council. They had withdrawn here, generating a sanctuary for some of the most wanted men and women in the quadrant. Beyvahl, Chakotay's beloved older brother, had stepped into the breach created by the loss of their father and headed the Council, pulling them through the war, through the aftermath and into the deadly game of cat and mouse they now played.

Bey had secured the neutrality of a number of species, some of them members of the Federation and they used that cover to pass through space that held before no avenues of escape for them.

The Maquis was the military arm of the disparate peoples of the rim. All along the frontier, both during and after the war, families depended upon them for protection and relief. When no would go into an area to provide assistance to aid suffering or evacuate people, the Maquis did. When no one would help, they were always there. The acceptance and support that the Maquis received from the occupied planets, governments and people of the Frontier was complete, fanatical, unflinching, and total.

The return of Voyager had electrified the Frontier, the news spreading all along the rim, even though the Federation news blackout was total. No one outside of the DMZ and all the related areas knew of her return. No one would until they could breach the silence and stranglehold of Federation martial law and to do so meant to risk summary execution. In the harsh reality of the Frontier as it existed, the wrong decision could become a fatal one.

He paused before the open door, waiting until Bey looked up. As he did, Chakotay noted his brother sitting across from Bey, the brother closer to him in age, Nayib. He stared at the big andsome man as he rose and turned, grinning broadly at the tall, handsome copy of himself standing riveted by his own emotions in the doorway.

Nayib walked to him and took Chakotay into his arms, holding him tightly. They stood together, the room respectful in its silence as they embraced. Chakotay felt tears flow and when he looked at Nayib, he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat.

"You look well, brother," Nayib said, holding his brother's shoulders in his hands. "God, you look so good, Chakotay."

"Nubby," Chakotay whispered, tears running down his face, "Nubby."

Nayib hugged Chakotay, patting his back. "It's okay. It will be all right."

Chakotay sighed, moving as Nayib guided him to a chair. He sat, wiping his eyes. Looking up, he scanned the room for more familiar faces. "Where's Mama? Where's the girls?"

"Mama is on Dorvan. They won't let her leave. The girls have escaped the drag net that started on Tersis II. The underground is smuggling Neera and Layla to Vulcan. Khola is on the run for the haven near Qos'nos."

"Is she safe? Will she be okay?" Chakotay asked, his voice filled with concern.

"She's with her husband and Darius. The kids are with them. They will be fine. We have friends among the Klingons. They see what we're doing as a warrior cause they can get behind. They're going there."

Chakotay hung his head, shaking it with fatigue. "I can't ...

Mama, she's all right? They won't hurt her?"

He sounded so sad that Bey sat down beside him. "Don't worry about Mama. We're going to get her out if we can. Until then I think she's fine at the house."

"Does she know about Papa?" Chakotay asked, visions of his small mother being at the mercy of armies chilling.

"She does. We all know." Bey gripped Chakotay's arm. "It'll be okay, Chakotay. We all have to do our part. You got us Voyager. you got us forty more experienced Maquis warriors. You came home to us and the rim is exhilarated. You gave hope to a lot of people, Chakotay. We can recruit and we can raise arms and money. You did good, brother."

Chakotay listened and then he nodded, sighing. "What's next? Is the intermediary making sure that the 'Fleet people get back safely?"

"They are. The Andorians are neutral in this matter. They have interests out here that have taken them out of the game. They agreed to take the 'Fleet people to the mining colony at Asteroid 345-B. There the 'Fleet will come and take them away."

Chakotay nodded, relieved. "Good. They deserve to go home."

Nayib looked at his brother, biting back the obvious cutting remark that he might have made under different circumstances. He glanced at Bey and sighed. He rose and walked to the desk in the corner, picking up a big padd that was a star chart. Turning, he walked back, putting it on a nearby table. "Chakotay, come and sit. We have a lot to talk about." Chakotay rose and walked to the table, Bey beside him. They sat and for the next three hours, the two men and their aides explained to him what they were facing and how they were going to do what they had to do.

*****Sick Bay, Voyager...

"They were all brainwashed, if you will, conditioned by a man named Tyro Adani, a fanatical Maquis Vedek. He buried in their brain a desire to become Maquis and wage war."

"What can you do about it?" Tom asked, pacing with frustration and fear. "*I* can do nothing. The conditioning has been turned on, if you will, and now they are what he wanted them to be. None of them will let me study them and what few scans I have been able to make indicate that there is very little I can do. A lot of their pre-Star Fleet, pre-Lost in the Delta Quadrant emotions and feelings about their politics and the whole situation out here have returned in full force. There is nothing I can do about that."

"But ... but B'Elanna ... she's so ... so cold and matter-of- fact. She locked Harry and I up during the takeover. She didn't even blink an eye. I'm her *husband*. She's supposed to *love* me. She acts like I'm a ... a *stranger*. *Surely* there's something you can do to ... to undo this."

"I don't have anything at my disposal to change what's happened,

Mr. Paris. I suggest that you work on your marriage, try and overcome whatever conditioning she has that might be dampening her ardor for you, if that's what it is."

Tom looked at him, noting the doctor's helplessness and turned, leaving SickBay without a word. The doc watched him go and sighed, looking down at himself once more. He wore Maquis colors now. He was still trying to assimilate all of it. Turning, he walked to the computer and pulled up psych texts on war, mental conditioning and brainwashing.

*****On an Andorian freighter...

They sat in a lounge, watching as the asteroid grew larger in their port window. Kathryn hadn't spoken a word since their journey had begun, sitting by herself on a lounge chair. No one spoke to her, no one dared. As they approached the asteroid, they could see two Star Fleet ships, one a hospital vessel and one a destroyer, sleek and fast. They were waiting for them, to carry them back to their beloved homespace and they stared at them, at their familiar markings with an emotional silence. The command center for Mining Colony 345-Beta hailed their transport. They cleared the ship to a standard parking orbit and three at a time, beamed the Federation crew to the camp deep inside. As they arrived they were met by Federation Intelligence officers who led them away, ostensibly for debriefing, and by the time Kathryn was beamed over, dead last, they were all gone from view. She stepped from the padd, walking up to the tall female Commodore that stood waiting for her.

"Captain Janeway, I'm Commodore Hacker-St. John. Welcome back to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Where's my crew?" she asked coldly, ignoring the formalities.

"They're being given medical exams and debriefings. A hospital ship is going to be taking them back to the Federation for repatriation. They will be riding home on it. You will come with us on the Daedelus."

"Why?" Janeway asked, her voice flat and emotionless.

"We would like to talk to you, to hear what you have to say on a number of issues, to talk to you about your ordeal in the Alpha Quadrant."

"My crew," Janeway said, her posture ramrod stiff.

"They're getting the best treatment available. They will be well cared for on our hospital ship, Captain. Please, come with us."

Kathryn hesitated and then slowly walked past them to the doorway beyond. In less than an hour she would have a good bath, a great meal and the full attention of a rapt audience.

*****On board the hospital vessel, Donny Brook...

Sam Wildman sat on the bed, her uniform gone and a hospital gown taking its place. Her daughter sat next to her, leaning against her mother as they waited for dinner to be brought to them. Naomi stared at the spartan room and her mother's worried face. "Mommy?"

"What, Naomi?" Sam asked, schooling the worry out of her

voice.

"Why is the door locked?"

Sam didn't answer. She was too afraid herself to think.

"Mommy?"

"What, baby?"

"I wish Uncle Neelix were here."

"So do I, baby," Sam replied, kissing her daughter's head. "So do I."

*****On Voyager...

Neelix bustled around the kitchen, even though he knew that they would no longer have to ration food the way that they did in the Delta. People still came in, sitting together in comforting groups as they struggled to adjust to the terrible turn of events. He was filled with sympathy for them. He knew what it meant to be an outcast. It had been a long journey for him, leaving the only place he would ever see any of his own kind, hanging his hat and his future with these strange and wonderful people, these friends of his, his Voyager family. He bustled to help them and to forget that Sam and Naomi Wildman had left. He hustled so that he wouldn't break down and cry again as he contemplated the only family he had in too long leaving him all alone here. With a sigh, he turned and began to cook breakfast for his friends, his colleagues and his fellow travelers. Pasting a smile he didn't feel onto his face, he began to take orders for food.

=0=

Nuclear Winter (5/5) [Book Two]

=0=

On Dorvan V...

It was spring at home, the vines sporting small buds that would turn into white flowers, sweet smelling and fine. She stood in her yard, surveying the fresh growing grass along the borders of her flowerbeds. It had been a while since she was able to go anywhere, house arrest making short work of her excursions here and there. She relied on the kindness of her neighbors rounding up what she needed. She didn't need much. Khola, Neera, Layla, Darius, Benjamin and the children had left before the crack down began. They had all gotten off Dorvan and she was sure they made it away before capture. Nothing less than that would do.

It had been over a year since her son, Beyvahl, had sat down with her and gently explained how her beloved husband, Kolopak, had been located alive. It had shaken her, even after all that had happened out here, to know that the greatest companion of her life, the husband of her youth and the partner of her heart and soul had been located alive. She had wept for hours, crying out her anguish and joy, her rage and her sorrow. All the long years alone, all the prayers prayed to the spirits, all the lonely walks to the place that she gave to him in her heart- the windy knoll beyond the river- they were for nothing. She had no body to mourn because there *was* no body. He had never died and now in some ways it was worse knowing that.

Was he well? Was he ill? What happened to him? How did he survive Cardassian custody? What did they do to him? Why wouldn't the Federation let her see him? All of that plagued her, driving spikes of fear and loneliness into her heart on the long nights when she lay in their bed and ached to have him there, holding and loving her. She endured, like all the women that ever loved a man before her, waiting for her sons and daughters to help find him.

The Maquis owed it to them all to find and liberate him.

She looked over her shoulder, distracted by a land car driving up her road. It was a Federation vehicle, an armored car that regularly drove past her house, showing the flag and intending to intimidate her. She watched it go past, her expressionless face giving nothing away.

/... Go on, you motherless sons, try to intimidate me. You cannot hurt me ... I am beyond your reach .../

She sighed and turned, contemplating her rose bushes. She would have to trim them she decided. It would be the intelligent things to do. Bending to her labors, Maria, wife of Kolopak began to snip dead limbs away.

*****Arizona...

The tall dark-skinned young man stared at the older man sitting on a bench under a shade tree. He was a handsome man, a tattoo peeking out from under the straw hat that he habitually wore. His skin was dark, more of a natural rather than artificial shade and his eyes were dark and lively. Sek rose and walked forward, stopping just before him. The older an looked up, a quizzical look on his face. "You are Kolopak of Dorvan V."

A smile crossed the handsome face of the older man. "You have me at a disadvantage," he said softly, his voice lightly accented.

The younger man bowed slightly. "I am Sek, son of Tuvok of Vulcan."

Kolopak nodded and gestured to the younger man to sit. May I ask what a Vulcan is doing in a prison for Maquis and their collaborators?"

"I am guilty of inquiring about you, sir."

Kolopak looked at him and blinked. "Me?"

"Yes sir," he said, turning his dark intense gaze on the older man. "There is a strong and growing anti-war movement in the Federation and it's working to make hidden things known. Like you for instance."

"Me," Kolopak repeated, looking at the young man with interest.

"We are aware that people believe that you are dead. We came here to investigate this facility and found that you and several others are alive and being held incognito. We smuggled that information out. However, in doing so some of us were captured."

Kolopak stared at him, not daring to hope. "People know we're here?"

"The Maquis do."

Kolopak shifted to sit facing more directly the youngster beside him. "The Maquis *know* this?"

Sek nodded, watching the display of emotions that crossed the older man's face.

"Then, it's theoretical that my ... that *our* families know we're alive."

"Yes sir. That was the intent."

Kolopak looked at him for a long time before he could find the strength to speak again. "You were captured for doing this, weren't you?"

Sek nodded. "Some things are worth the bother."

Kolopak felt the grin spread across his face. "Bother. Sentencing to a prison no one is supposed to know about is a 'bother'?"

Sek shrugged, his impassive face revealing nothing of the emotions that swirled inside of him. "You are a ... someone I look to for inspiration. It was no trouble to find you, I assure you," Sek said, noting with personal satisfaction the smile that burst forth on the older man's face. "I'm speechless," he said, shaking his head. "Just speechless." For a long time Kolopak just sat there and then he turned to his silent companion to talk in depth about the outside world for the first time in nine long years.

*****Night on Voyager...

Tom sat on the couch, a book in his hand. B'Elanna had bustled around, dining with him, discussing things about the ship that needed doing and in short, if he hadn't noted her earlier behavior, he wouldn't be aware of it now. However, he did and it was still strange although he couldn't put his finger on it. He felt that if there were a choice between him and the Maquis, he would lose.

"Come here."

She looked up and stared at him, rising finally and walking over. He pulled her into his lap, reaching up and stroking her face. She smiled at him, her dark eyes unreadable for the first time in their years together. He felt strange and he struggled to put it aside. "We haven't been together since this all happened. Don't tell me you've put the Maquis before sex."

She grinned slightly, her eyes betraying nothing. "Not unless I have to."

Tom sighed and swallowed his pride. "I want you. I want to hold you."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "Give me an hour. I have to finish some reports." She rose and walked back to the desk, leaving him behind physically and emotionally. Tom watched her, a chill settling in his bones. He didn't know what to do and he didn't know what to say. So, without a word, he rose and walked to the bedroom. He bathed, dressed for bed and settled under the covers. Three hours later, B'Elanna would join him. They wouldn't make love that night either.

*****Geron and Greg Ayala...

They sat up together, talking. The Bajorans on the ship had stayed even though the neutral status of their planet made them candidates to go home. Geron had become close to Greg, the two of them doing things in their spare time together. The return had thrown them both into disarray. Geron would have to decide to go or stay. For Greg, there was no choice. He had no place to go, his home world was the same one as Chakotay's. He sat talking to Geron, grateful for the chance to remain in friendly hands.

"You look worried," Geron said, slipping closer to the bigger man.

"It's going to be all right," Greg said, kissing Geron's forehead.

"It won't. I don't know how this is going to turn out but I'm glad to be here. I don't know what I would do if we had to go back to Bajor."

"You don't need to worry about that. You stay with me, Gerry.

I can tell you now that nothing is going to happen to you as long as I'm around. We've made it this far haven't we? Chakotay will lead us. All we have to do is our jobs."

Geron nodded, sighing. "I know. It just seems so endless. I don't know what it would be like to live without war."

"I know," Greg said, taking Geron's hand into his. "No matter what, we'll be fine as long as we're together."

Geron sighed and nodded, moving to lay his head on Greg's lap.

They sat together in the quiet of the evening, waiting for the next day and all that it would bring.

*****First Officer's Cabin...

He came home late, dinner and long talks with his brothers and their associates eating up his afternoon and evening. He tip-toed in, stripping and stepping into the bathroom, loathe to awaken Tabor, who lay sleeping on his bed. He stood under the water, the hot liquid pouring off his back when the door opened and someone joined him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. "You're late," Tabor murmured sleepily.

"I didn't want to wake you."

"You did."

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said, smiling slightly.

Tabor slipped under his arm, turning and leaning against the shower wall, pulling Chakotay against him. They kissed, long and tenderly as the water slid over them. "You taste good," Tabor said, sighing into Chakotay's mouth.

"You do too," Chakotay said, nuzzling Tabor's neck. "I wish I wasn't so tired."

"Me too," Tabor said, rubbing Chakotay's back with his hands. "Let's get out of here and go to bed. You need some sleep."

Chakotay hugged Tabor tightly, kissing him on the mouth. He shut off the water and they dried each other, walking to the bed beyond. Falling in, they wrapped themselves in each other's bodies and soon they were fast asleep.

Outside the window, events moved on, taking their own course.

Far away and nearby, the next part of their saga was being staged. Soon they would be in the middle of it and how it would turn out, nobody knew. But that was for tomorrow. Right now, sleeping together was all that counted.

*****In another cabin...

Tuvok sat meditating, centering the turmoil in his heart that never seemed to subside. His son was a part of a group of people that were standing fast against the continuation of the battles and wars that had plagued the rim for over a decade.

He was proud of him, proud that he had stood up for his beliefs. He was also afraid for him because he had disappeared into the Federation security system without a trace. He could imagine the feelings of his wife as she searched for him. She would search for Sek too. She would not give up until she found him. He wouldn't either. He was home but all the joy of it had turned to ashes. He couldn't go home and he couldn't it by. He had to do something so he did the only think he could. He gave himself over body and soul to the only group that could do something about what had happened here.

He became a Maquis for real.

With a sigh, he blew out his lamp and rose, walking quietly into his bedroom to sleep. It would take effort and time but eventually he would drift off into sleep at last.

*****Nearing Jupiter Station...

The hospital ship flew on, taking the forty 'Fleet members on board to their final destination. The courts had been alerted and their status had been determined as a threat to the security of the Federation vis a vis the Maquis. By the time they were on their way to Earth, they were already assigned numbers in the Federation Penal system.

Nothing of Voyager's return could become known, the idea of a ship with Maquis on board was considered dangerous to the war effort. When they arrived, they would be taken off, transported to the Arizona desert and incarcerated in the Star Fleet prison for Maquis and their collaborators. They would be 'disappeared' into the system, buried along with their stories.

The hospital ship would depart again, heading for the frontier where it would be put to good use. The ship bearing Janeway would land in San Francisco and she would be interviewed, co-opted and given a new ship and assignment. She would be sent back to the rim to search for Voyager and bring her back into the Star Fleet fold. Nothing they would tell her would relate to the old life she lived. It would all be about the 'here and now'. Opposing her would be the full might of the Maquis, the closed ranks of the people of the rim and the Maquis warrior, Chakotay. When it was all over, no one would ever be the same again.

*TBC c2000 Nov. 5


	3. Chapter 3

=0=

Book Three: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Owen...

He stood by the window, brandy snifter in hand. Outside a storm raged and the sea crashed against the rocks below his house. They lived on a hillside, a beautiful part of San Francisco reserved for flag officers of the fleet. His house was especially nice. It was the house where he raised three children. He paused and corrected himself. It was the house *Miriam* raised three children. He, himself was always too busy to claim more than the most marginal credit. He was there for the school reports, for the very occasional school function and for the moments when things went wrong.

All the rest? It was her bailiwick.

He sipped his liquor, warmed in his soul by its expensive fire. He sighed deeply, his thoughts turning once more to the unmovable object. The place between rock and hard …

He was used to getting his way. He was used to things happening, or not because he said so. Then God or whomever ruled the universe with a dry wit dealt him Thomas. That's when he realized that he wasn't omnipotent, that just because he said it, it happened.

He hadn't counted on his son's individuality. He hadn't counted on his idiosyncratic spirit. He hadn't counted on ... a lot of things. He turned and stared at the stairs, the barest glimpse of his son's room door shadowing the perfect wall that led up to it. He considered it a moment and then slowly walked to the stairs. He paused and then began the climb, walking up the perfect white carpet to the perfect white door that hid from his view all the reminders of his failure and hurt.

He stood before it, considering what was behind it and then he opened it, stepping inside. It was dark but the small automatic light, the one Thomas had insisted upon as a boy lit up the room. He stepped in further and the well-hung door automatically swung shut. Nothing but the best for Owen Paris, he thought sarcastically.

He moved and sat on the bed, setting the snifter down beside his foot on the floor. He stared at it and then began to look all around him. When his wife wasn't home lately, he had begun to come here, sifting through the evidence, trying to find some clue as to the real identity of the chameleon that had lived among them so long.

Hidden in plain sight. You never knew him, Owen. He came among you and you never saw him, ever. The bookshelf contained volumes, row upon row of books, most about adventure. He chided himself on that, noting his son's preference. He was an explorer, his boy. He was a seeker. His eyes wandered and he noted the perfectly kept desk, real paper and pen set to write, as if he was still in school and he would return any minute. A real clock sat on the desk, Miriam still wound it and in the corner a model of a ship.

Full mastered, ready to sail. Owen rose and walked to it, picking it up. Thomas had received the model from his grandfather, Miriam's father, when he was about five years old. He loved to play with it and finally decided he would be a sea captain. He could remember exploding over it, yelling at his boy as he sat on the floor of this room, daydreaming that he was sailing it over the ocean sea.

He still remembered the child face looking up at him, the beauty of it. He didn't remember it then but it had come back to him in his dreams. He dreamed a lot of Thomas lately. As he stood holding the ship, his eyes roving over the room and its contents -lovingly maintained by Miriam- he realized once more that his son was beckoning to him somehow.

He comes in dreams, he comes to me. What now, Owen, he thought? What now? He set the ship down carefully, sighing deeply. He turned and walked slowly around, noting all the things that Thomas loved. They were various, his son eclectic in his tastes and he wondered on him again.

Who were you and why, oh why couldn't I see you? He thought about what he had been told of Voyager. They were at war, he knew, and Voyager had been co-opted, the Maquis getting a toe hold on the ship. That made them dangerous. That made it all impossible. No one would be allowed to go to their homes until the ... conflict? skirmish? *police action* with them was concluded. To Federation satisfaction.

No one.

He had surprised himself, going to the top and arguing for his boy. Thomas wasn't a Maquis, not really. Consider his record, the one that Janeway had smuggled out ...

He paused, considering Janeway once again. During the first transmissions she had sent files, Maquis crew files carefully detailing the work they had done. She had shown how they had contributed to their survival, how they had shown their valor and their teamwork, many of them marrying 'Fleet crew, working together to produce a fighting chance to return. Her intent was obvious but it was not to be. The rules had changed and things were out of his hands. None of it would matter. He considered the obstacles, races they would never see, crossing the Borg homeland, meeting their *Queen*

... he could barely imagine it.

Yet, it didn't matter. The overall security situation of the Federation was so 'precarious', so 'fluid', so fucked up that they had to keep Voyager secret. All of the crew, and he knew *all* of it would disappear into the bowels of the Federation security system, all of them but Janeway. She was too valuable. She was too knowledgeable. She would be used to get Voyager back, perhaps capture the Revolutionary Council ... her First Officer was the brother of his nemesis, Beyvahl. Son. Of. Kolopak.

He had Kolopak in his prison. He had him where he could get to him any time he needed to. As head of Fleet Intelligence, Owen Paris knew where everyone and everything was. He knew about the secret places, the secret files, he had many of his own. He had the job of crushing Maquis resistance, using their own people if he could against them.

He would be glad when it was all over.

Thomas ...

He had gone to his superiors and asked for his son. He had gone and done this uncharacteristic thing and atypically, he didn't get his way. There would be no mercy for Maquis sympathizers, not from before the end of the last war and not now. There would be no exceptions. Thomas would go to prison and when he was finished serving his sentence, he would go to the special camps to serve time with his shipmates until they crushed the insurrection on the rim.

End of story.

He sighed and bent down, picking up his drink. He stared at a picture on the wall, a picture of Thomas as a teenager. God, he was so handsome, a golden boy, tall and lanky. He was beautiful, Owen thought with regret. He quashed that emotion, finding such things difficult to work around and he turned, walking to the door. With one last glance around, he sighed and left. For a moment the light lasted and then it winked off, shrouding the silent room in darkness once more.

******In another place...

Kolopak...

He had hurried along the corridor, running with the others. The Cardassian strike had been unexpected. They were surrounded and it would be nip and tuck if they would escape. The others ran with him, heading for the ship that was slated to take them away. They boarded, turning to wait. As they did, as Kolopak ran across the tarmac, the fighters came in. Streaks of energy stitched the ground and they had to go. He would die with the image of their faces on his mind. They had been ripped apart with their screaming and sorrow as the ship lifted off. He would later hear that they made it. He, himself had not. Or so it would be said. He had turned, hearing footsteps behind him and out of the dust and smoke, a squadron had come. Cardassians.

He stopped running and stood, his death song on his lips as he waited to be shot. They surrounded him and he thought of his home, his wife and children. He thought of his son, Beyvahl, carried away with the ship that had left him. The others on board, they had clung to him as he struggled to jump off and he could hear his son's screams, calling to him as they lifted off. He had not been able to go. He was stuck here at the mercy of the Cardassians and he knew the end would be hard. As he stood there, a figure stepped out. He looked at Kolopak, a smile on his alien face. "You are Kolopak of Dorvan V."

Kolopak just stared at him, tall and unflinching.

"I am Dukat. I welcome you as my guest."

With that, he was marched away to a room with good furnishings, on a Cardassian ship of war. For five days he would be wined and dined, bored to tears with tedious conversation about gentlemen and honor and the right of a species to expand their horizons. All the while he would sit and wait, expecting his death.

It wasn't to come.

By the end of a week, he was bound and blindfolded, marched by soldiers to a place pre-arranged. He didn't know that. He thought he would be executed. He didn't show his fear, his regret, his terror. He kept it to himself. He stood tall and defiant, his warrior facade clearly matched by his determination to die well. He walked and walked and then another took his arm.

He was taken away, clearly to a ship. They put him in a room and he was not given any information. For days they flew, his meals materializing in the room with him. Then they arrived, his bonds and blindfold once more in place. They walked and walked and then he was sat down on a chair, sitting silently in the dark.

It was surreal, this whole period of time and he fought to keep his calm knowing instinctively that to not do so meant his death and others. For a long time he sat in the silent room and then the blindfold was jerked away. A pool of light surrounded him, there was someone there, someone who would demand answers to questions on which he wouldn't budge.

For days they would dance and then he would be taken away, unbowed but exhausted to spend the first day of the next nine years in prison. It was a new one, hidden away and no one would know about him. Word would spread that he had been killed, by the Cardassians most likely. No one would know he was used for prison exchanges and no one would guess that he even existed. He

would disappear, kept in check against a time he might be needed. Few would know, not the least among them the head of Star Fleet Intelligence, Owen Paris.

He had interrogated this man, dueling for days. Even he was impressed by the silent man's strength. He knew that if he didn't get information in the first three days it would be too late. The Maquis would adjust, they would change things and he would be left out. They drugged him and he resisted. They sweated him and he resisted. Kolopak of Dorvan V was a tough, tough man. Owen couldn't break him so he buried him. Later, Owen thought, as he moved on to the next task.

Later, you bastard.

He arrived, dazed and worn, at the camp that would be home. Bit by bit, others would arrive. They would be astonished to see him and then their faith would crystallize. Kolopak would become their inspiration, their rallying cry, their center. He would become for them what the Federation feared he might become for the rim, their moral center.

The years would pass and the Maquis would endure, the Cardassians and Dominion falling to their knees before Federation might. They would be next and they dug in, the defense of their homes and families paramount. At their head would stand two men, Beyvahl and Nayib of Dorvan V. They would take their father's place, working to avenge his loss. They would become implacable in their opposition to Federation policy in the Rim. They would become Owen Paris' chief nemesis and they

would haunt his dreams.

******On the rim...

Chakotay lay in bed, barely awake when the alarm sounded. Tabor sighed and called it to halt. He turned and spooned behind Chakotay, who lay on his side, floating in and out of wakefulness. He yawned and slipped his fingers through Tabor's, sighing as the younger man settled down against him. "I have to get up."

"Um-hmmm," Tabor murmured.

"I don't want to."

"Don't," Tabor said, snuggling closer, kissing Chakotay's shoulder. "Stay with me."

Chakotay turned, pulling Tabor into his body. He stroked Tabor's hair, absorbing his warmth. It felt good, it felt like he was alive. As he lay there, Tom entered his mind. He wondered what the lanky blond was doing. Of course, he knew. But he wondered. B'Elanna had changed, the Maquis connection as strong in her as he had ever seen it. She was changed and he wondered what it meant for their marriage. A small part of him rooted for failure and the rest of him was alarmed. He loved her himself and wanted her happiness. However, he loved Tom and wanted him.

Period.

It was a mess, he thought, lying in bed with another. It was all a mess. He shoved it back, returning to the here and now. He pulled Tabor over, rolling onto his side and watched as dark eyes opened slowly.

"Morning," Tabor said, moving closer. He smiled. "You seem happy to see me."

Chakotay snickered in spite of himself. "I am."

"Let me help you there," Tabor said, grinning. He turned and disappeared under the covers, his mouth finding his target.

Chakotay sighed deeply, relaxing as Tabor began to take care of his morning peccadillo. As pleasure coursed through him, he stroked Tabor's back gently. In minutes the world would intrude but for now it was just the two of them, alone in bed with their ghosts.

=0=

Book Three: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

Maquis HQ, in a haven in the DMZ...

He sat at his desk, engrossed in myriad details when Nayib walked in. Beyvahl never looked up so intent was he and Nayib studied him from the doorway. His brother was the biggest man among big men in his family. He was handsome as they all were, just like their parents. The boys took after their father in looks and build, big, strong, well made. The girls were taller than their mother but willowy and beautiful, long-haired and strong-willed.

Beyvahl had the ability to focus to the exclusion of all things around him and he had been the natural choice to head the Maquis with the loss of their father. He had all the right stuff.

Nayib noted how much of Bey's hair had gone gray in the service of his people, how deep the circles under his eyes had gotten from sleep deprivation and strain. He stayed with Bey, taking care to take care of him. The strain of their father's loss had haunted Beyvahl. He had been there on the ship when they lifted off leaving Kolopak behind. Bey had tried to jump off, to join his father but the others around him had restrained him.

It had nearly destroyed him to have to leave his father behind, to see Cardassian soldiers running toward him as they disappeared into safety. Nayib had been called in from the field and he had taken care of a distraught Beyvahl until he had gathered himself enough to go to Dorvan V and tell their mother. He remembered those days with loathing, a deep and crushing loathing.

Then Sek happened.

Khola had been to Vulcan, the intermediary between the Vulcans who were deeply involved in the anti-war movement and the Maquis. She had met Sek, a college student and intellectual and they had become friends. Sek had formed a group on his campus to explore the possibility of a negotiated settlement and it had led to ties to other anti-war groups all over the Federation. He had been part of a group that was exploring the 'disappeared'. These were people who were rumored to be alive but not free, hidden in the bowels of the Federation security establishment. He had gone with two companions and roamed the American Southwest, searching for evidence of a facility that housed high-ranking prisoners deemed to be a security threat.

He had found low-level officials who had made inquiries, and that is how they found the camp. That is how they found out about Kolopak, the three other Revolutionary Council members, smugglers and high-ranking Cardassians that were held there.

Sek made a communique, a short message detailing the existence of the camp, what he knew of its security and a listing of who was known to be there. It had been smuggled to Vulcan, a copy finding its way into Khola's hands. After her initial surprise, she encoded the information and sent it through their secret communications apparatus to her brothers on the other side of the DMZ.

Fortunately, Nayib had received it first and he broke the news to Beyvahl. The older man nearly sick with emotional relief, made a beeline to their mother, telling her himself. Coming back, filled with resolve, they began to work to find out more. If they could get them out, it would not only be a boon to their family's grief but a great coup for the Maquis.

Then they heard about Voyager.

For years, they had mourned Chakotay, their youngest brother and the youngest of their family and kept themselves going for the good of all. When they heard about Voyager, the same low-level Star Fleet Security agents giving them the heads up, they made plans to listen in on the Midas array. Since it was a Vulcan project, their sympathizers gave them copies of all transmissions made. They knew of Janeway's efforts on behalf of Maquis crew, they knew of the false letters, of the subterfuge. It was all known to them. News of the Federation's plans to keep Voyager under lock and key was also leaked before the source dried up, fearful of detection. Star Fleet Intelligence becoming aware of a security leak, began a crack down that led to Sek's arrest, the fleeing of Chakotay's sisters, his brothers-in-law and the family's children to refuge in the Klingon Empire. It had led to the house arrest of Maria, their mother and the rounding up of any suspected collaborators.

There would be no more news from Earth.

"Morning. Did you eat?"

Bey looked up, his eyes filled with pleasure at the sight of his right arm. "Nope."

"Come on. Let's go to Voyager and get Chakotay. I'm sure he hasn't eaten either."

Bey grinned and tossed his stylus down. He rose and walked to the door, his brother patting him on the back. They walked down the corridor to the transporter room, beaming over to Voyager. It was quiet there, most of the crew working on their particular part of the refit or down below on the planet, working to send word to their families.

The 'Fleet people had been welcomed, everyone taking pains to show them they were a part of the team. Everyone was pleased with the acquisition of Voyager and the return of their people from such a distant place as the Delta. Now they would work together, building a partnership the same as Voyager had in the wilderness.

"Deck four," Bey said, entering the lift with his brother.

They rode to Chakotay's deck, stepping off, nodding to crew that walked past. By the time they found his door, they had met and talked to fifteen people, half of them 'Fleet recruits. Bey pressed the chime and a voice called for them to enter.

They walked inside and saw a Bajoran standing by the desk, checking mail on the computer. He smiled and looked over his shoulder into the bedroom. "Chakotay, your brothers are here."

Bey and Nayib glanced at each other, noting Chakotay peering out of the bedroom, half dressed and smiling. "I'll be out in a minute."

He disappeared again and the Bajoran stepped away, moving toward the replicator by the table. "Can I get you something? Breakfast?"

Bey cleared his throat. "We were hoping Chakotay hadn't eaten."

"He hasn't. I have. Chakotay's been slow this morning. I think he's more tired than he admits to. I have to go but the replicator is right here. Help yourself," Tabor said, taking his cup of tea and a padd from the table. "Take care."

He turned and walked from the room, the door closing behind him. Chakotay stepped out finishing with his shirt and looked around. "Is Tabor gone?"

"Yes," Nayib said, a smirk on his face. "He had to go. You hungry?"

"Starved," Chakotay replied, moving to sit and pull on his boots.

"I'll fix breakfast," Nayib said, glancing at Bey. "Both of you sit."

"Yes, mother," Bey said, grinning. He sat and considered his brother, curious but unwilling to breach Chakotay's fabled privacy. Nayib however was less reticent.

"Nice looking man, this Tabor. How long have you been sleeping with him?"

Bey turned pained eyes on his brother, Nayib turning with steaming plates of food. He sat one down in front of Bey, meeting his frown with a wolfish grin.

"I have to ask. Chakotay always gets the good-looking boys. I'm jealous."

Chakotay rose and walked to the table, sitting, his face red with mild embarrassment. "He's been with me since we got back. Frankly, I think he's taking me on as a mercy case."

"So, tell me truly, you two aren't ... you know, engaged or anything?" Nayib asked, eying his brother carefully.

"No," Chakotay said, grinning at Nayib's obvious intent. "He's a good man but we're not married."

"I can see that. He's also very good-looking," Nayib said, setting his own plate down. "I could hate you if I tried." The three men sat eating, bantering about sex, men, women, sex and sports. Bey sat, watching his brothers discussing men the same way men discussed women and shook his head. "What's the matter? Is your puritan sensibility offended by our discussion of men?" Nayib needled.

"No, I just wish we could talk about the same thing when we talk sex," Bey said, sighing dramatically.

"What's the difference?" Nayib asked, a deliberately bland look on his face. "Consider the basic shape ... asses, tits, legs, lips ... it's all the same, mostly. The only difference is in degree."

"Degree of what?" Bey said, smiling at his jaunty younger brother.

"Degree of ass," Nayib said, grinning broadly. "All the body parts are basically the same. They're just ... *more* with women that's all. I mean, I concede chests to you and your female fetish, brother."

"Thank you, Nayib," Bey said, grinning broadly as he shook his head. "Two of you. Two of you preferring men. I feel endangered."

"You are. However, we'll look after you as always," Nayib said, buttering his toast as he winked at Chakotay.

Chakotay sighed, relief of a kind he hadn't felt in years flowing through him. He was with the two men he loved the best, two men who had been his objects of hero worship for the better part of his growing up. When he left home for the Academy they had been upset about it but they never let it get in the way of their regard for him. They wished him well and wrote regularly. He had been grateful, for the homesickness had been debilitating.

"The Federation has the 'Fleet crew, Chakotay. We got word from the Andorians this morning that a hospital ship and a destroyer had gotten them off the asteroid," Nayib said, looking at his brother.

Chakotay sighed and nodded. "Good."

"We have a lot to do now, Chakotay," Beyvahl said, "And one of the biggest things is to consider breaking Papa out of the camp they're holding him in."

Chakotay looked at Bey, noting his serious expression. "How?"

"Sek gave us information about the camp, basic and incomplete. However, it's enough to get us started. We sent two teams in to make inquiries, to take pictures and record the area. They're our best people. We should be hearing back from them in days. Then, with a lot of luck and planning, we can move forward in the plan for breaking them out. It'd be a tremendous coup for us to do that."

Chakotay nodded. "Who'll be part of that team?"

"It's still under discussion but we want you to do it. You have experience in getting in and out of tight places. I know that you and your crew were inside the Borg homeland and you got out. That makes me think we can do this."

"Earth is the most secure planet in the quadrant," Chakotay said. "This would take incredible planning."

"That's where *I* come in. When you need incredible, I'm your man," Nayib said, a jaunty grin on his face.

Chakotay snickered in spite of himself. "Yeah, that's you. Mr. Incredible."

"*All* of my men think so," Nayib said, sitting back, toast in hand.

"Shit," Bey said, grinning broadly. "Too much information."

"There can *never* be too much information, brother," Nayib replied, preening.

Chakotay snorted and sighed, a smile on his face. "Tell me what you want."

"We will," Bey said, the nucleus of a plan floating through his mind. "In the meantime, we need an escort for refugees that are moving from a camp on the edge of the DMZ to a new one farther in."

Chakotay nodded. "When?"

"In two days. In the meantime, get her ready. We're very glad to have you with us, Chakotay. We'll make good use of your firepower."

Chakotay nodded, sipping his tea. They talked quietly for a while and then rose and cleared up. Turning, they walked to the door and down the corridor to the lift. Entering, they called for the Bridge, their conversation returning to handsome men and comparative anatomy. The lift stopped and they stepped back as the door opened. Tom Paris, waiting to go to the Bridge, froze as he saw who was onboard. Then with characteristic savoir affair stepped in and nodded. The door closed and they continued onward. Tom stood in front, three pairs of dark eyes staring into his back. It was one of the most trying trips he had ever made.

=0=

Book Three: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

Jupiter Station...

The hospital ship pulled into the big station, parking at one of the big gates. The shuttle way swung out, linking them and the myriad cables that joined them rejuvenated the ship. People bustled on board, joined by security teams. The people of Voyager were being transferred to a fast, unmarked transport ship. They would be taken shackled onto the ship and transported to Earth, ending up in the desert of New Mexico. The exactlocation of the camp that would be their new home was not listed on any maps and hadn't been for more than four hundred years.

On the old historical map that adorned the wall of the warden's office, the official designation was still emblazoned: Area 51. It was an inside joke about the camp, that all kinds of space people went in but they never came out.

The doors opened and security streamed in, dressed in riot gear and carrying heavy weapons. It was the usual display for Maquis prisoners, designed to halt resistance before it began. The prisoners would already be manacled, ready to move, but the notion of an inescapable prison began with them.

They came off, pale and silent, stunned at the turn of events. All their overt screaming and anguish had already been expended, hurled against the security teams that came to shackle them. There was no response, the helmeted security working to make the prisoners ready to disembark.

Sam Wildman walked down the corridor, a trooper on each side. They were helmets that blocked their faces, hiding their features. She had been separated from Naomi and she felt frantic. They took her on, down a long shuttle way and into another ship. She was taken to a cell and put inside, feeling intense relief when Naomi jumped up from a bench and grabbed her around the waist.

Naomi clung to her and she clung to Naomi, terrified. They weren't going to be seeing her husband, nor were they going to be going home. They were going to prison and she didn't know why. They moved to the bench and she sat awkwardly.

It would take a half hour to load them and fifteen minutes to enter Earth's orbit. Transport from ship to shore would be accomplished one by one, with each being processed for the duration. In two hours they would be in their new home and the transport ship would leave orbit, heading off for other duties along the rim. No one would have seen it, no one would have noticed. It would go like clockwork. It would be just another transaction in an ocean of transactions. For the prisoners, it would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

**********At break time...

"You off?"

A warm voice materialized behind him and Tom Paris turned, looking into the dark amused eyes of one of Chakotay's brothers. It took a moment for him to figure out which one, they looked so much alike. Nayib, the middle brother.

"Break time."

"Share a cup?" Nayib asked, grinning broadly, leaning against the corridor wall, all big and handsome. Tom was charmed, Nayib being legendary for his affable good nature and ability to meet and greet. Tom grinned back in spite of himself and found himself nodding. "Sure."

They turned and walked down the corridor, both of them eye level to the other. Both of Chakotay's brothers were taller than him, more muscular and exuded the same quiet masculine sex appeal that he did. They were different and alike to his Captain, men who carried themselves with authority, with a coiled power and intensity that made you watch them.

He had certainly watched Chakotay, the older man someone who appealed to Tom. He thought of him as being rather like a nesting doll. You peered inside to the next layer and you felt that you knew and understood him only to find another one inside and then another and another.

They entered the Mess Hall, gathering coffee and a cinnamon bun, walking to a table near the window in the mostly empty room. They sat and quietly began to dine, Nayib's dark eyes watching Tom with amusement and curiosity. "So, you're Tom Paris," he began.

Tom paused and looked up from blowing on his cup. "All my life," he replied, guardedly.

"You married B'Elanna Torres."

"Yeah. Not so long ago."

Nayib smiled. "She's quite a woman."

Tom nodded, smirking at the older man with his trademark smile.

"She is that."

"Were you aware that Chakotay was in love with you?"

Tom sat quietly, considering the big man across from him and shook his head. "No. Does Chakotay know that you're telling me this?"

"No," Nayib said, chuckling. "He'd drop kick me if he knew. You don't mind do you, talking about my brother. I've sort of been out of the loop with him for a while."

"No," Tom said, blinking. "Actually, I don't mind. I guess."

Nayib laughed aloud, his dimples eerily familiar to Tom and he found himself smiling. "I love a man that's definite."

"Well, that's me, definite. Definitely totally ... wondering what to say."

Nayib smiled. "That's the thing isn't it? I've seen my brother in love before and I can tell you he would never step forward and hurt you or your marriage. He loves B'Elanna too. He will never tell you what he feels."

"I didn't know, honestly. I felt we were friends, I felt we were at peace with each other. We didn't start off very well."

"I can remember," Nayib said, grinning broadly. "I remember what a smart ass you were. I also remember wanting to do you myself."

Tom choked on his coffee, spitting it out as he hacked and wheezed. Nayib rose and beat on his back, grinning broadly as Tom sputtered to catch his breath. He sat down again and leaned back in his chair, noting the color slowly returning to Tom's face again.

"You shouldn't try to breathe and drink at the same time."

Tom coughed into his hand and looked at the dark-haired doppelganger squarely in the eye. "A natural reaction I assure you to surprises."

Nayib chuckled. "You were so damned good-looking and so I couldn't help myself. Chakotay isn't the only man in our family who can appreciate a handsome man." He leaned forward. "I thought you were a total babe."

Tom coughed and cleared his voice. "You should have said something. I might have given you a tumble," he replied jauntily, leaning back himself.

"It occurred to me until I saw Chakotay's face once when he was watching you. He didn't think anyone could see him. He had such a naked open expression that I sort of ... holstered my pistol, if you know what I mean. Right then and there I knew how he felt about you."

"He never said a word," Tom said, staring at Nayib with a strange look on his face. He leaned forward. "Not a single word."

"Would you have done anything if he had?" Nayib asked, remembering the arguments and silent fuming spells that informed what he had seen of their 'relationship'.

Tom thought a long time. "Probably not. I don't think I would have believed him then. I didn't believe too much or too many in those days."

"I remember. You were one hot headed kid," Nayib said. "That's why I wanted you myself. I like people with spunk."

"Spunk," Tom said, his voice soft with recrimination. "That's me, Mr. Spunk."

"You're awfully hard on yourself aren't you? I think that's the biggest thing you and Chakotay have in common. You kick your own ass the hardest. You're both good men, strong and decent. Yet, for whatever character flaw it is, you both slap yourself the hardest. If you had just looked a little higher you would have been together. I know this to be true."

"Yeah, well ... shit happens doesn't it? A missed opportunity here, a conversation never had there and what do you get? Something other than what everyone else sees. I thought I was happily married here. I thought I was on my way to the life I was supposed to have. Now ..."

"I talked to B'Elanna the other day. It's like the last seven years didn't happen. I heard that she tried to kill herself the slow way after Chakotay got his Maquis letter."

Tom nodded, shrugging. "I didn't know what to do. I sort of didn't believe it, fool that I was. She was going to hurt herself until she was killed. Chakotay got into her face about it."

"He cares for her, I know. Did she turn to you?" Nayib asked gently. "When she was doing this, did she turn to you for comfort?"

"No," Tom said, shaking his head. Dark eyes filled with remembered hurt and incomprehension lifted to meet Nayib's. "I don't ... I don't know why she couldn't talk to me. I mean, I *know* confiding sucks most of the time but I thought we loved each other. I thought we had something really strong and ... and ..." He sat silently a moment. "I was obviously full of shit."

Nayib shrugged. "Love is strange."

"Yeah," Tom said, leaning back, the facade coming back on line.

"I was in love too," Nayib said, rolling the cup in his hands back and forth. He snorted. "At least I *thought* I was. I had this boy friend, Maris, who was like all legs and gorgeous. He was a blond. I like that. But he had really green eyes and he could swear like a longshoreman." Nayib grinned, a sheepish look coming over him. "Man, when we'd go to bed sometimes, it was like the sexual Olympics. We'd do it for days it seemed like. We were always separated by the Cause.

"One day, when I finally made it home, there was a 'Dear Nayib' letter on the bureau. Needless to say, I went and got drunk and whined to *anyone* who would listen to me about my poor aching broken little heart."

Tom grinned broadly as Nayib chuckled.

"I was *so* pathetic and you know what? It felt damned good. Frankly, when it was all said and done, all we had in common was fucking."

"That's not a bad hobby," Tom proffered, a huge grin on his face.

"Well, maybe, but I'd hate to make a career out of it."

They both burst out in laughter and finally when it was settled, Tom leaned forward. "You should have asked me. I think you'd be a hoot in the sack."

"Hooting I can do," Nayib said, leaning forward with a leer on his face.

Tom grinned broadly. "I can see where you might be."

Nayib looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm sorry to hear that things are strained with B'Elanna. The Maquis became her family when she was very vulnerable. She's totally loyal to whomever or whatever she believes in. I hope you work out okay."

"Thanks," Tom said, sighing deeply. He stared at the cup in his hands. "I do too."

**********At the camp in New Mexico...

She sat on her bunk, her daughter next to her and wondered what would happen next. They had been placed in a woman's camp, one that was some distance across a river from a camp that was designated for men. They were taken here from Voyager under false pretenses she thought, told they would go home and then brought to a prison. She looked down at Naomi, sitting silently beside her. It was incomprehensible that they could have ended up this way. Rising, she walked to the door, Naomi's hand in hers. Opening it, she walked down the hall and into an open day room. People she didn't know looked up at her and then she heard her name.

Turning, she saw a cluster of Voyager women, one of them waving her over. She gripped Naomi's hand and walked over, joining fifteen women from her ship.

"Sam," an ensign from Biology said, slipping her arm through hers with relief. "We worried about you and Naomi."

Sam nodded and looked around fearfully. "You and me both," she said, moving closer to her group, her daughter sheltered in the middle of their circle. "What happens now?" she asked. No one had an answer.

*******On the Bridge...

Tom sat at the conn, his head filled with images that didn't belong there. He sighed and waited as Tuvok called out the information he wanted Tom to confirm. Nayib had been good company but disturbing as well. He had told him for sure what Chakotay had only whispered at. It had bothered him that he had not noted this before.

He was a perceptive man, tuned into others. Life with Daddy had made him fast on his feet with others. He had of course been obtuse sometimes. That was usually self-inflicted. He would often act contrary to common sense and take the punishment that came with it. He had been impulsive and it had been a costly course of action when he would act on the moment.

Jail and alcohol abuse, sexual promiscuity and living on the edge, they had all been a part of his past and his 'otherness'. That boy had grown into a man, shaped by the crucible of the Delta and his own desire to fit into something bigger than his own insecurities. He had found a home on Voyager, friends among the crew and a purpose.

It had amazed him just how important having a purpose was. It had transformed him. Then he found friends, B'Elanna and Harry in particular. Chakotay had been on the edge of his close circle, someone to admire and needle, dance around with and joke with, but he had not had time to consider him as more than a strong stable presence in his otherwise sporadic life.

B'Elanna had suddenly exploded in his face. He had suddenly become infatuated and then in love with her. It had sort of crept up on him. He hadn't realized until that moment in the race what it meant to him to have a stable life and someone in it to share all of him, the hard to get to parts and the rest.

What had sounded like an impulse became an affirmation of his maturity and his growing feelings. The wedding had been simple, fast and over, the honeymoon unique and comforting. He had taken down his walls and invited someone in. Now, in the moment of his triumph, something had intruded and choice was once again taken away from him. No matter how hard he had worked, how much he had changed, how far he had gone, it was not in his hands to have the life he wanted.

B'Elanna moved around him, talking to him, even slept with him but she wasn't *with* him. It was the beginning all over again. Nayib was right. She was like she was when there was only the Maquis. He almost expected her to call him 'Star Fleet'.

As he sat there, he realized he was mourning. Something between them had actually died. He sat up straighter, unwilling to concede anything. It was inconceivable that this venture of his, this love he had given wouldn't be given back equally.

He would talk to her tonight, deeply and long. He had to figure out what had broken and find a way to fix it. He was back where he was in the beginning, the ashes of his life lying all around him. He sighed and fixed his mind on the present, willing himself to worry about what he couldn't do anything for later. It was all he could do right now.

Behind him, staring at the screen that mirrored the space activity all around him, Chakotay stood. He stared at the screen and then down at Tom, noting the curve of his long neck. Sighing, he turned and walked across the Bridge, heading for the lift and a late lunch with his brother.

**********Dorvan V...

It was dark, the stars coming out in the sky. A small woman sat on the swing on her porch, her hands folded in her lap. As she had done from the day her son had told her, she was saying good night to her husband. "Good night, my darling," Maria whispered. "Take good care and live. I long for you every day. You are my life."

The stars were like diamonds as she sat rocking. She leaned back, watching them twinkle.

"Come home to me, Kolopak. Come home to me. I miss you so."

It was quiet as she sat rocking in the swing, her mind filled with images of a good man with beautiful brown eyes that had been away from her life too long.

=0=

Book Three: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

Later that night...

Chakotay sat in his office, reading through padds filled with data. It was going well and they would be ready to escort the refugee ships that were going to be moving the next day. It would be a short trip, moving alongside of the three freighters. The first journey of their existence as Maquis would be a mission of mercy and that pleased him. The door opened and he looked up, noting Tabor walking to him. He had a meal on a tray, setting it down on Chakotay's desk. He smiled and noted all the work before his lover. "You've been busy."

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said, meaning every word. "Dinner?"

"Yes," Tabor said, walking around and pulling Chakotay to his feet. "Let's eat now."

Chakotay pulled him close and kissed him softly. "Thanks, Tabor."

Tabor grinned and picked up the tray, carrying it to the coffeetable. He put it on the table and sat, watching as Chakotay sat down beside him. He pulled the cover off a platter and revealed sandwiches. "Vegetarian for you," he said, handing Chakotay a plate with a sandwich on it. He turned and poured coffee. Handing Chakotay a cup, he settled and began to eat his own tuna fish on sourdough. "How is it going?"

"We're going to pull out tomorrow. The escort will be easy enough duty and we won't be too close to the DMZ that the Federation should be unduly interested in us, at least to risk a fight."

"Good," Tabor replied, nodding. "I hope we can get them safely away."

"Me too," Chakotay said. He considered his next mission. "I have a mission coming up that is very secret. I will have to put together a team to do something very undercover, very covert."

Tabor nodded. "Do you need me? I'll help you."

Chakotay grinned, rubbing Tabor's shoulder affectionately. "I know you would. However, we're going to need specialized skills."

"Where's it going to happen?"

"Earth."

Tabor was silent for a moment. "It sounds desperate."

"It involves rescuing my father."

Tabor paused, glancing at Chakotay. "Your father is dead."

Chakotay put down his plate and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubbed his face. Looking at Tabor, he sat back.

"No, he's being held by the Federation Security System."

"The Cardassians ..." Tabor stammered.

"They traded him. They traded him for Cardassian spies. The Federation has kept him in a special prison so he wouldn't be a rallying point for the Maquis."

Tabor sat for a moment and then set his plate down, wiping his mouth on his napkin. Turning, he took Chakotay's hand. "Chakotay, this ... this is wonderful news," he said, as Chakotay squeezed his hand tightly. "Tell me how I can help you."

Chakotay smiled slightly, reaching out and pulling Tabor's face toward his own. He kissed Tabor, gently and softly, over and over. Sitting back, Tabor looked at him, his eyes filled with emotion. "You already have, Tabor. You are such a good man,"

Chakotay whispered.

Tabor leaned forward and kissed him again. "Eat your food, Chakotay. Take care of yourself. Your father needs you now and you need to take care more than ever."

Chakotay nodded, sitting back slightly. "Yeah, you're right. As usual."

"Eat. Then let's go to bed. You need to sleep. Tomorrow we stand out and people are depending upon you."

"I know," Chakotay said, picking up his sandwich. They sat together, eating and chatting and when they finished, they rose and cleaned up. They walked together from the room to the Bridge, Chakotay noting how the crew was putting finishing touchs on things. The Alpha crew, including Tom, was off duty and he wondered again how it was going with Tom and B'Elanna.

Together they entered the lift and headed for deck four and their cabin, passing the gamma shift as they did. They had sixty new crew handpicked Maquis vetted by Nayib and Bey filling in the holes created by the missing 'Fleet crew. Entering the cabin, Chakotay walked to the desk, checking his mail. Tabor, pausing by the bedroom door, shook his head, a smirk on his face.

"Look, I'm going to shower. Come join me."

Chakotay looked up, grinning slightly. "Right there."

Tabor chuckled. "Look, I'm offering to get naked with you. Come with me."

Chakotay paused and grinned, shutting off the computer. He would check it later during one of his insomniac moments later in the night. Moving across the floor, he began to pull off his clothes. Pausing before Tabor, he kissed him. "You're good for me."

"Yeah, well, of course I am."

Chakotay snorted and laughed aloud. "Get going. Get naked."

Tabor turned and walked into the room, grinning broadly. He began to disrobe and turned, watching as Chakotay joined him. He finished and turned, walking into the bathroom and the shower stall. Turning on the water, he braced himself against the wall, letting the water run down his back. It felt warm and relaxing.

The door opened and Chakotay stepped in, reaching for soap. Sudsing up, he turned and began to massage Tabor's back.

"That feels so good," he said, sighing with pleasure.

"Good," Chakotay said, smiling. "My turn to make you feel better."

"Your company does, Chakotay," he said, leaning back his head.

Chakotay reached around and stroked Tabor's neck, the suds running down his body, pooling in the water at his feet. It was quiet and warm and he felt his tensions draining away.

"How was your day?" he asked, rubbing Tabor's shoulders.

"Work. One thing after another." He yawned. "I think I replaced half of the circuits between the hangar deck and the Bridge."

Chakotay smiled, leaning down and kissing Tabor's shoulder

softly. "Sounds tedious."

"It was. But necessary," Tabor said, turning around and leaning against the tiles. He stared at Chakotay kneeling, relaxing under his touch as Chakotay gently washed the smooth skin of his belly. It was soothing and wonderful. Water slipped over him, washing the soap away and when it was clear, Chakotay nodded and nuzzled his cock. Tabor groaned, bracing his hands against Chakotay's shoulders. A wet mouth took him, a warm tongue massaging him and he felt himself weakening as Chakotay worked his magic. He sucked and licked, kissing him over and over until finally Tabor couldn't contain himself anymore. He groaned and came, standing on shaking legs partly braced by Chakotay.

With care and ease, he slipped down until he was facing Chakotay, the warm water slipping over both of them. Chakotay leaned forward, kissing Tabor on the lips. "Thank you, beautiful," he whispered.

Tabor smiled and nodded, closing his eyes as he moved sit together side by side, water running over them, soothing them in the quiet room.

**********Sandrine's...

Tom sat at a table by the fireplace, drink before him and a blue mood on his mind. He sat numbed, the events of the earlier evening running over and over in a noisy loop. He had gone home and had dinner, moving through the strangely detached dance that he had undergone since they had been taken over by the Maquis.

B'Elanna had been the way she was, that strange and coldly detached manner and he had called her on it. For a moment she just stared at him and then she turned and walked to her desk, picking up padds. "I don't know what you mean."

"B'Elanna, *something's wrong*! You're not yourself."

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the struggle to understand that she was going through as she considered his words. "You haven't got any idea do you how important this is to me."

"*Tell me*," he had said, struggling himself to understand. "When I came to the Maquis I had no home, no life, no family, no ... no honor. I found it here, with these people, on ships like this ... I had a place where it mattered if I lived or died.

"Then, out there, they told us that everyone was dead. *I* wanted to die too. I wanted to end it because without them, without the cause, there was no life for me. Nothing that would come after would ever be enough."

"What about us?" Tom asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

She looked at him, meeting his eyes levelly. "I love you. You know that don't you?"

Tom paused, struggling to assimilate her words, which were directly opposed to her delivery. "I *don't* know that! You and I ... we're ... you're *cold*. We haven't even made *love* since this happened. What's happening, B'Elanna? What's going on? You're ... you're scaring me."

She looked at him, her mind thinking through a dozen replies. "I nearly died once. I went to Stovikor. I had a chance to earn back my honor and my mother's love. *All my life* I've had *nothing*. Now I have something, a place here, a chance to earn honor and do something for the people that *need* me."

"*I* need you," Tom said, moving closer. "Don't you see that? *I need you too*."

She looked at him and then turned, staring at the work on her desk. "You have me."

"No I don't. I have a ... a *shell*, a husk of you. You don't have room in your heart for me *and* the Maquis too. Do you?"

She turned slowly and looked at him, willing him silently to understand. "Don't make me choose, Tom. Please ... don't make me

choose."

He stared at her, a sense of futility filling him that nearly choked him. Stepping back, he turned and walked to the door, stepping out into the corridor. He stood for a moment and then turned, hurrying for the lift and the holodecks beyond.

**********First Officer's Cabin...

Chakotay sighed and licked dry lips. Tabor was lying half on him and half off. He had kissed a trail from his nose to his navel, lavishing intense attention to Chakotay's nipples. The older man lay awash in sensation as the soft lips of his lover worked their way down. They had lay down, holding each other as they talked over the day and other interests, Tom Paris included, and then Tabor had begun to relax him the'Bajoran' way.

Chakotay felt deep affection for things Bajoran when Tabor's soft tongue found his balls and he spread his legs wider to allow the younger man to play to his hearts content. "God, so good," he whispered, missing the smile on Tabor's face as he glanced up.

Looking down, Tabor sighed and slid Chakotay's cock deep into his mouth, working his magic as the older man cried out, surprised but not by Tabor's initiative. For several minutes there was only the world between his legs and then he was opening his eyes, the younger man using his body for a mattress. Smiling down, he kissed Chakotay on the lips.

"You're a genius, did I ever tell you that?" Chakotay said, his hands roving up and down Tabor's body.

"Yes, you have actually. You called me a 'maestro of the man flute'."

Chakotay sniggered, kissing Tabor on the lips. "You are. You're amazing. Nayib is half in love with you already."

"He is?" Tabor asked, smiling brightly. "He's pretty hot."

"He's old enough to be your father."

"He holds his age well, Chakotay. I wonder what he'd be like in bed?"

"Aged," Chakotay said, rolling over, smiling down at Tabor.

"Not like you, Tiger?" Tabor purred, stroking Chakotay's face.

"A mere shadow," Chakotay replied, chuckling as he leaned down to mark Tabor's neck.

"You mark me and it'll show," Tabor said, sighing with pleasure.

"No turtle necks in this man's army."

"No, but I think I like the idea of you wearing my hash marks."

Tabor smiled, staring up at Chakotay with deep affections. "I think so too if I knew what you were talking about."

"It's an old Earth custom. Instead of a branding iron, you use your mouth."

"Good thing," Tabor said, moving toward Chakotay as he rolled over.

Chakotay pulled Tabor onto his body and they relaxed together, wrapped in each other's arms. "You feel good. Thank you, Tabor."

"Thank you, Chakotay." Tabor stroked Chakotay's chest. "You're beautiful."

Chakotay smiled, squeezing Tabor's shoulders. They lay together, the darkness comforting all around them. In the morning, they would leave base and head for their rendezvous. It would be the first time they worked out as a Maquis crew. He looked forward to it as the first step in getting his father back. He slipped off into dreams of his childhood and the time he was happy with his parents.

**********In the corridor...

Tom Paris had walked all over the ship, dreading having to go home. He paused by the door, noting the name plaque. 'Captain Chakotay.'

Old quarters, new title. He wanted to chime the bell but he knew that Chakotay was in there with Tabor. Tabor spent the nights, Tom knew, and he was loath to wake them. He sighed and pressed his fingers against the plate, his mind wandering old roads. Then with sadness, he turned and walked on. He would spend the night in the lounge, sleeping as best he could on a couch. In the morning, he would go home and see what he could do about saving his marriage. But since he had no idea what was truly wrong he had no idea how to start. He just knew he had to try.

He paused before the door and hesitated. "Computer, is Nayib on board?"

The computer replied. "Nayib of Dorvan V is in the Mess Hall."

He stood there a moment and then turned, walking down the hallway to the lift. In moments he was in the doorway of the darkened Mess Hall. He saw Nayib, sitting by the window, eating pie and sipping coffee. Walking over, he stopped before him.

"Hi," he said, awkward and emotional.

"Hi," Nayib said, noting Tom's confusion with concern. He rose and stood before Tom, waiting uncertainly as the younger man struggled with a decision. Then he stood silently as Tom stepped forward, slipping his arms around Nayib's neck. As he pressed forward, tightening his embrace, Nayib embraced him back.

=0=


	4. Chapter 4

Book Four: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

The next day...

They stood out of port at noon and slipped away, moving toward open space. Chakotay sat in the command chair watching his crew move smoothly through their paces. Tuvok was at tactical, Harry Kim at Ops, Tom sat at the conn and B'Elanna was at engineering.

Other people worked at stations and Greg Ayala stood nearby watching the screen as they began their first Maquis mission. They moved into place and with a soft affirmative, Chakotay gave the okay to leap to warp.

They moved forward and the stars bled white, moving back into perspective once they achieved warp. Chakotay noted the information streaming by on the screen next to him and then he rose and walked to the tactical station to stand next to Tuvok.

The Vulcan's hands moved as he did his job, watching the ship build to warp six. Once it was achieved, they turned to each other.

"Have you heard yet?"

"No," Tuvok said, shaking his head. "The news net is slow and we'll have to wait."

Chakotay nodded and sighed. "Well, we'll take this boat out and give the crew a shakedown. Then we'll start working out the details of what we have to do for our people."

Tuvok nodded and looked at him. "I'm with you on whatever

expedition we undertake."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Tuvok," Chakotay said with equal conviction.

He turned and walked to the barrier, placing his hands on the curving rail. He stared at the conn watching Tom as he worked through the flight plan, implementing and controlling the colossal energies that collided in the great ship. With modifications, some stolen from Star Fleet and others developed by sympathetic engineers and their own people the shields of Voyager were much stronger than before.

Even though they had been away seven years the technology of Voyager had become cutting edge on its own. Enhancements and adaptations had been made over the years. The most important change supplemented their own technology with other aliens', most notably the Borg.

They were powerful, sleek, fast and deadly. Even with her age and hard traveled wear and tear, Voyager was a formidable ship. Chakotay turned and walked to his chair, sitting. As he did the

com system called him. "Captain Chakotay, please report to Astrometrics."

"On my way," Chakotay said, rising and walking for the lift.

Tom turned in his chair and watched him go, noting his ease and economy of movement. It appeared that command fit the big man like a glove. He turned and continued his flying even as events of the night before flooded back into his mind. It had been late, he didn't want to go home to a cold spouse and his growing anguish over what appeared to be a split he couldn't figure out how to traverse.

He had two beers at Sandrine's, the liquor tasteless to him in his distress. Not that many years before, he would have wallowed in booze, drinking himself stupid and finding someone to fuck him. But that was then. This was now. He had wandered aimlessly, moving from deck to deck, walking down empty corridors, the crew either asleep, working or planet side. He had stopped before Chakotay's cabin, hesitating about going in. In the end he hadn't, the acute awareness of Tabor of Bajor weighing like lead on his mind.

Turning, he had done the next best thing. He had called for the whereabouts of Nayib, the glib, handsome, inspirational brother of the man who commanded and mystified him at the same time, Chakotay.

Chakotay...

/... Did you know that Chakotay is in love with you?.../

"Nayib of Dorvan V is in the Mess Hall."

The computer's feminine voice showed him the way to hell with its conveniently straight lines and he took it, walking there with rising desperation and trepidation. His old side, the part of him that self-destructed had wormed its away to the surface, fueled by beer and emotional neediness. He cursed himself as he stood in the doorway, noting the big muscular handsome man sitting by the window sipping coffee as he ate his pie. A late nighter with his brother had kept him here and he had grabbed a bite before returning to his apartment in the city below.

Tom stared at him, watching Nayib as he sat unaware of his scrutiny. He was certainly handsome, older but younger in some ways than Chakotay, his manner lighter and less ... serene? Tom speculated on the difference, noting the way a person could look like another and not be like them at all.

It rather mirrored his flailing marriage. He had loved a person and they turned out to be someone else entirely. How that could be he didn't know. How it could be fixed, he wasn't sure. He just knew that he couldn't go home and face the void right now.

/... Reverting to the old run and hide personality defect are you, Paris? .../

He sighed and cleared his mind, gathering his guts together. He walked over hesitantly but determinedly. Pausing by Nayib's table, he nodded. "Hi."

Nayib looked up surprised and then pleased. "Hi."

Tom just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. Nayib rose with concern, standing and watching the turmoil rolling across the younger man's face and then slowly Tom stepped forward and slipped his arms around Nayib's neck. Nayib hesitated and then returned the embrace, holding Tom tightly.

They stood together in the dim light of the stars outside and then Tom stepped back, looking at him with wretched eyes."I want to talk to you."

Nayib nodded and looked at his table. He decided someone else could clean up after him so he nodded again at Tom and they turned, walking through the darkened room and out into the corridor. As they did Neelix shut down the last switch in the kitchen and stepped out, staring after them. He turned and gathered Nayib's dishes walking to the recycler. He dumped them and then with a troubled expression on his face he turned and walked out of the room to go to bed.

**********Five minutes later...

They entered the lounge, Tom pausing as Nayib walked past him, his own mind still in turmoil. Nayib turned around, his serious face a mirror of Chakotay's. He waited silently as Tom struggled with his thoughts. The younger man was tense and upset, at war with an internal battle that he appeared to be losing. Finally, with a deep sigh, he stepped forward, pausing before Nayib, their chests almost touching. "Did you mean it? When you said you wanted me once?"

Nayib listened and then slightly relaxed. "Yes, I did. What's wrong?"

Tom turned and shook his head, his thoughts careening around the pain that formed the central locus of his brain. "When I was in the Maquis the first time, I had come off a rough time. When things would go wrong I would get drunk and get laid. It didn't matter who it was really. It could be anybody, man or woman, alien or human. I've had sex with all kinds of aliens, Nayib. Klingons, humans, fuck ... I even slept with an Andorian."

Nayib nodded, nothing of the humor of that arrangement coming to his lips. He watched Tom, the pain on his face and he worried. "Go on, Tom. What's wrong?"

"It was always my refuge, getting drunk and fucking until I couldn't think. It took some of the guilt and the ... the responsibility away, dulling the edge. Do you understand?"

Nayib nodded. "Sure. I do."

Tom regarded him and nodded too. "I think you do." He sighed deeply and walked closer. "I don't know what I'm going to do. B'Elanna might as well be a stranger. She doesn't seem to *need* me. I thought ... I thought ..." He turned, biting his lip for a moment. "I thought this was real, the big one, you know?" He turned and looked at Nayib, who nodded, his face filled with compassion. "Something's changed since we came back, since that fucking Vedek changed everyone. She just hasn't got any ... *room* for me anymore. I don't know what to do."

"You talked to her?" Nayib asked gently.

"Yeah, if you call it that. Tonight. I ... she told me not to make her choose. She didn't want to choose between her and me ... between us and the Maquis."

Nayib stepped closer, touching Tom's arm. The younger man spun and slipped his hands behind Nayib's neck, leaning in and kissing him with passion, desperation and need. Nayib stood a moment as still as a statue and then he raised his hands to Tom's arms, gently breaking his grip and the kiss. Tom stepped back turning away as he felt tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," Nayib said, his voice strong with conviction.

Tom turned and looked at him, seeking in his face some kind of answer, some kind of understanding.

"I've wanted to do that for years, Paris," Nayib said, a slight grin crossing his face.

"I want to be with you. I want you to be with me. I want to crawl into you and not have to think."

"I want to fuck you but it wouldn't be good. You know that and I know that."

"No one would know. We could say I was drunk. It wouldn't be as if anyone would *question that statement*," he said, turning away, his hands resting on his hips in dejection. He hung his head, his pain welling up into his chest, making it tight.

Nayib watched him and then stepped forward, resting his hands on Tom's shoulders.

"Hey," he said softly. "You aren't that kid eight and a half years ago that was spoiling for a fight and someone to love him at the same time. You've changed. You aren't a drunk and you aren't a whore. You're a man with lots to recommend himself."

"Yeah, *right*." Tom turned and looked at him, shaking his head. "I just propositioned the brother of the man who is supposed to love me, all the while being married to the woman that's practically his daughter. Good man, that's me."

Nayib shook his head. "You're a real bastard, did you know that?"

Tom blinked and stepped back.

"You're good looking and you threw yourself at me. Frankly, if it were any other time and any other place I'd bang you through the floor and then I'd marry you. But that's not to be. So let's look at this sensibly shall we?"

Tom rubbed his face but he stood still, even when Nayib's hands came to rest on his waist and his red lips were that close to his own. Tom sighed and closed his eyes in defeat. "All right, sensible. You kick it off. I'm not noted for being very sensible myself."

Nayib smiled broadly. "I don't know. You stayed with us. That's pretty smart."

Tom smiled wryly. "The jury is still out on that one."

Nayib smiled, an eerie imitation of someone else he knew. "You have a changed situation with B'Elanna but going back to the old ways is not the solution. It won't even give you solace. If I fuck you, I have to face Chakotay some day. He loves you and frankly, I would never be able to reconcile this in my mind, *I don't think* even if he never found out. You're a married man and until that changes, you're off limits. Really, you've always been off limits to me. All because of Chakotay."

Tom shook his head, a pained smirk on his face. He turned and stepped away, facing the door silently and then he turned back.

"It's a fucked universe when I marry the one I thought I had and don't have and the one I didn't have and could have can't have me but wants me."

"That makes sense, in some kind of nonsensical way," Nayib said, turning and tossing some pillows to one end of the couch. "I take it you either can't or won't go home?"

"I can't."

"Very well," Nayib said, stretching out on the couch. He held up an arm. "Climb on."

Tom stared at him and then the trademark smirk made its appearance. "You have no idea of the picture that crossed my mind just now."

"I do. You, naked, riding me. Am I close?"

Tom snorted and smiled, shaking his head. "How can you look so much like Chakotay and be so different, so ... so ..."

"Raunchy?"

"Yeah. How?"

"Come here and stretch out. I'll tell you about Maris."

Tom sighed and moved to the couch, laying carefully down into Nayib's body. He relaxed, comfortable. Nayib was more muscular, more developed from doing arduous work than Chakotay and Tom rested his hand on one of the older man's well-shaped pectorals. The solid beating of his heart, Tom could feel. It felt comforting.

"Do you do this often?" Tom asked, sighing as he relaxed.

"I did for Chakotay, when he was little and upset. I also had a lot of experience sleeping on the couch when I was living with Maris."

"He sounds like quite a man," Tom proffered, settling in to listen to a rollicking tale.

"He was. He was tall and blond, had green eyes and a foul mouth. He was absolutely the most dedicated bottom that I have ever seen. I've never seen anyone who liked getting it in the ass as much as him."

"Sort of sorts out the roles in the relationship," Tom said, grinning in spite of himself.

"Well, it sort of meant that I didn't have to worry about suppositories." He snorted. "I love fucking but the upkeep stuff is a pain in the ass. I hunt out bottoms but this guy, he didn't seem like the type to want it that much, at least on the surface and so I took a chance and hit he jackpot. We had a very wild time and then he left. It sort of blew me out of the water. It rather dented my confidence if you know what I mean."

"Didn't he tell you he was going?"

"No," Nayib said, musing on the past even as he absently rubbed Tom's neck. "He just packed up his stuff and left. I read his note. He told me that he wanted more. Can you believe it?"

"Sure. I can believe anything anymore," Tom agreed sighing.

"So, basically, I'm left to play the field. Unfortunately, you're both married and my little brother's favorite jerk off fantasy."

Tom snorted and sighed. "You're delightfully crude. Did you know that?"

"By product of living with Maris. Klingons are such animals sometimes."

"Maris was a *Klingon*?" Tom asked, raising his head and looking down at Nayib.

"Didn't I tell you?" He grinned. "His mother was human and his father was a Klingon. I think he's the only blond haired Klingon in existence. God, what a man."

Tom smiled brightly. "Let me get this straight. You found a blond-haired, green-eyed half Klingon who was a ... a *bottom*?"

"Amazing isn't it. It sort of drew me to him. I *had* to see this for myself. I still don't get it myself."

Tom settled back down, sighing deeply. "You're a piece of work, Nayib."

"My mother thinks so," he said, pleased that Tom felt better.

"Sleep. Tomorrow you have to go. You need your sleep."

Tom was silent for a moment and then he sighed. "Thanks, Nayib, for everything."

"Don't mention it," he said, filled with rueful regret. "Merely a service I provide."

They were quiet a moment and then Tom had to ask. "You seeing anyone now?"

He grinned. "No one in particular. However ..."

"Yes?" Tom asked, waiting expectantly.

"I'm sort of in lust with Tabor."

For a moment they just lay together and then Tom laughed. Looking down into Nayib's face, he grinned.

"Birds of a feather?" Tom asked, settling back down again.

"Identical twins from the sound of us," Nayib said, grinning. "Computer, cut the lights and put a security lock on the door."

"Affirmative. Complying."

The computer sounded off and they lay together silently. Finally, slowly, Tom drifted off, the hypnotic rhythm of Nayib's hand rubbing his back gently the ticket to oblivion he sought.

For Nayib, it would take longer...

Tom sighed and looked up at the screen again. It was filled with stars and the path to others was straight and true. He had avoided temptation last night, a place to hide his pain. When he arrived in the morning to shower, change and eat, B'Elanna was already gone. Behind him, the crew worked efficiently. Ahead of him, a mission of mercy awaited. What lay in the here and now, he couldn't make a single solitary guess.

=0=

Book Four: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

Rendezvous point...

They waited as three ships slipped from the small planet and rose through the atmosphere to space beyond. Chakotay watched as they fell into a running formation and then he nodded to Tom, who sat watching him for the signal. They looked at each other for a moment and then Tom nodded back, turning and beginning their journey.

Chakotay suppressed a sigh, noting for the thousandth time that the universe had a strange sense of humor. He would have to sit behind the one unattainable thing in the entire course of his life that would make him happy and he would never be able to touch.

Happy ... were they? Tom and B'Elanna?

He wondered about the two of them. They didn't look connected. From the first time he noted her chill, he had a sense of unease. He had talked to Tuvok, asking him what could account for her different behavior. None of the other Maquis awakened to the Vedek's call had forsaken their present so completely as her.

Tuvok had thought about it, remembering the frame of mind she had been in. "She had a dark frame of mind in those days, filled with anger and loneliness. She was ... filled with the desire for vengeance when the news of the supposedly slaughter was received by you. Those are very strong emotions, Captain, betrayal and revenge. When the Vedek's message was received, it was overlain, if you will, on top of that framework. My guess is, and it is only a guess, Lt. Torres is more Maquis than 'Fleet in her emotional state and sense of identification due to the power of her feelings and the loyalty she gives, and gave, to the Cause."

"What about her feelings for ... say Tom? They seem to be ... different." He paused, carefully composing himself. "I worry that things are impaired between them over this."

Tuvok considered his words, his mind filling with images of B'Elanna and Chakotay together. He was very aware of their close relationship and his feelings for her. He knew that Chakotay felt a sense of emotional responsibility for her and that he had intervened when she was in the process of self-destruction over the news that the Maquis and all her friends, her base for her spirit had been destroyed.

"I have noticed ... changes myself," Tuvok said, considering his own words. "Knowing what I know of her, the conditioning that she underwent with all of us apparently and the depth of her despair when she believed that everyone and the Cause was lost I would say that her feelings would be more directly drawn to the Maquis than say, other less intense and long-lasting involvements, including perhaps even Mr. Paris."

Chakotay felt a mix of emotions at the speculation. He sighed deeply. "Is there anything you can do for her? Perhaps modify this or lessen the intensity of the Vedek?"

Tuvok considered this for a moment. "I am barely able to contain myself, keeping the focus on the here and now, Captain, even with meditation and mental discipline. We have all been changed, for the better or the worse. I don't know what I can do to make that right. Maybe when the conflict is over we can all resume a more normal mental and emotional existence."

Chakotay nodded and left, walking for hours around the ship as he considered what to do. It didn't look good to him and by the time he headed for the Bridge, he made up his mind to talk to her himself. "Captain, we're receiving a message from across the

DMZ."

"Shields up and arm weapons," Chakotay said, standard practice for Maquis in harms way. "Send it through."

The screen crackled as a message from a great distance materialized on the screen. A familiar face peered at them, a Bajoran face. "Maquis ship, this is the Federation battle cruiser, Defiant. Identify yourself."

Chakotay stared at Kira Nerys, noting her familiar features. It had been a long time since he had seen her striding along the promenade at Deep Space Nine, himself present due to an arms sale he was concluding.

"Defiant, we are on a mission of mercy escorting refugees to safety. Stand back and don't interfere," he said, glancing at Tuvok. A hard look was on Tuvok's face and he knew that the Vulcan was determined to protect the mission that mattered most to him, the rescue of his son even against this moment.

He glanced at Chakotay. "Phasers are armed and ready."

Chakotay nodded and rose, walking to the conn. "We're armed and ready to fight. Frankly, I don't think you want to cross the DMZ and enter our space. Not only do I think you want to endanger innocent civilians but I don't think you want a shoot out with us, Commander."

Her face was hard and she stared at him a long time. "You're a criminal. You will not prevail, Captain."

"The Bajorans on board this ship might think otherwise," Chakotay countered, noting her expression shift. "Some of them think that it's collaboration to fight with the Federation in light of what happened to Bajor. Of course, I'm sure you've justified your participation in your own way, *Commander*."

Hard emotion crossed her face and she stared at him with cold eyes. "Don't cross the line, Captain. We'll be waiting for you."

"And we'll be ready," Chakotay said, equally coldly.

"Cut transmission, Harry."

The screen returned to star fields and Chakotay turned walking to his seat. The room was quiet, each going about their business and soon they had crossed away from radio range with the other side. It would be two hours until they could cut the convoy loose, so deep would they be in their own territory. They would continue on to a big camp that was being built, stocked and protected by the Maquis inside their own space. It was the best the refugees could hope for until hostilities ceased, whatever fine day that would be.

**********In the Mess Hall...

Neelix sorted the trays out, getting them ready for the lunch time rush. Even though they didn't ration anymore, the crew still gathered for their meals in large part in the Mess Hall, Janeway's old private dining room. He turned and walked to his cooking pots, checking them. He hadn't slept well the night before, the image of Tom and Nayib weighing heavily on his mind.

/... I need you .../

Tom had hugged the older man, declaring his need for him and they had left together. Where had they gone? What had they done? He didn't know and he felt uneasy speculating on it. Pictures of them together invaded his peace of mind and he shoved them back, unwilling to believe that Tom Paris would cheat on his wife.

They were in love, so much so it had modified them, making them easy and more mellow with each other and the life around them. It had been a good thing, the two marrying, he thought and he couldn't begin to conceive of there being trouble in that pairing. But there obviously was. Tom had clung to Nayib and the big man had embraced him back. Tom was emotional and clearly needy. It bothered Neelix deeply.

"Is there any coffee, Neelix?" a crewman asked, a Maquis that had been assigned to the ship, Crewman Daggott or something.

Neelix fixed a smile on his face and turned, welcoming the distraction.

"Why of course there is," he said, bustling to find a cup for the Bolian.

**********Elsewhere...

Kathryn Janeway stood on the porch of her mother's house and noted the familiar landscape all around her. The blue sky above was ancestral and the air she breathed that of home. Yet she wasn't rested. She was filled with emotions that surged and warred with her, filling her with a decidely uneasy spirit. Her mother had welcomed her, agreeing to the secrecy of her return. No one from Voyager would be allowed to tell that they had returned, so serious was the loss of Voyager to the Federation. She had agreed, feeling strangely ambivolent about everything and had gone to her mother's house to rest for two weeks. Soon she would go to San Francisco, entering into the intelligence apparatus to learn her new part in the macabre dance that return had become. Soon she would get a new ship and a new mandate. She knew what it was, this new role she would play. She knew what they wanted her to do. They wanted her to find Voyager and get it back. They wanted her to capture the Maquis criminal,

Chakotay.

How life found a way of biting you on the ass, she thought, her sense of the fullness of things rising. We're back to where we began once again. With a sigh, she turned and walked back inside.

**********Along the DMZ...

Kira Nerys sat in the command chair, pondering her encounter with the elusive ghost of Voyager. The ship had become fabled in the Federation, a lone star ship, battling its way back to Earth. The people who had to deal with her knew about her existence but no one else did. They all existed under the stringent rules of martial law out here and news was ever sent that didn't have the censor's mark all over it.

Newsmen were held to demanding rules and no one dared violate them. The penalty was imprisonment and very few were unaware of the severity of the military courts that ruled their existence out here. She considered the man she had seen, a man with a reputation of cunning and stamina. They referred to him in many ways but the ones that seemed to fit him were fox and bear. He was smart and strong, never caught in the war and now that he had returned he had taken a star ship. No small step, that.

Behind her, leaning against the doorjamb, Julian Bashir reflected on their situation. They would surely in future have to deal with Chakotay and the renegade Voyager, whatever they called it now. Word along the rim was they were using Voyager's signature when they needed to but it was called by another name, a familiar name to Federation security, Crazy Horse.

Crazy like a fox, she thought as they turned and made their way back to their original course.

**********On Voyager...

He sat watching the screen when the message came in. Glancing back as Tuvok took it, he waited expectantly. The Bridge was quiet and efficient, everyone doing their job at their usual level of great ability. Tuvok looked up and nodded at Chakotay, watching as he rose and turned to the conn.

"Mr. Paris, the Conference Room." He glanced over his shoulder. "Tuvok, Harry and B'Elanna, you too. Chakotay to Seven of Nine and the Doctor."

They acknowledged him.

"Report to the Conference Room immediately."

They acknowledged him again and he turned, following his staff even as other crew shifted to take their vacated positions. They filed in, taking their same seats and waited for Seven and the EMH. Chakotay and Tuvok stood by the window conversing and then Tuvok sat. Seven and the Doc entered, walking and sitting and they all waited, watching Chakotay by the window.

He turned, his face a mask of anger and sat, smoldering rage emanating off of him like smoke from a fire. He sat a moment and then he spoke. "We have been awaiting word from an operative in the Federation before mentioning this to you. We had to be sure. Tuvok?"

Tuvok nodded and leaned forward on his elbows. "Our man in the Federation Security apparatus has confirmed for us that our colleagues, the Star Fleet personnel that didn't stay, including Samantha and Naomi Wildman were taken off their ship in shackles and incarcerated at the top secret Maquis prison that was constructed at a historic air base outside of Rosswell, New Mexico.

"This base, commonly referred to as Area 51 in the past, houses a secret prison for high level Maquis prisoners and their supporters. The returned crew of Voyager because of Voyager's loss to the Federation, were considered a security risk to the Federation due to the rise of a small loosely organized but tenacious and vociferous anti-war faction. Because of this, they were taken, all that is but Captain Janeway."

They sat a moment, the magnitude of what he said sinking in.

"Well, isn't *that* typical? That traiterous bitch!"

Everyone looked at B'Elanna, the rage on her face almost frightening to see. She rose and stepped away, turning slowly in a frustrated circle, her fists clenched. She turned to them, raging. "You can't trust their word! The bastards! All they know how to do is lie!"

No one spoke and then Chakotay leaned forward. "Part of the information that the Maquis has about Area 51 comes from a small cell in the anti-war movement that is known as Bataan. They sent it to us just before they were captured and taken there for incarceration."

"Bataan ..." Tom mused, looking at Chakotay with alarm. "That was a group of people during World War II that were marched to a prison camp over a trail and distance that caused wide spread death. The Bataan Death killed a lot of people and the Japanese, their brutality added more."

It was silent for a moment.

"The leader of the cell that was caught is my son, Sek," Tuvok said, his voice even and his demeanor aggressively bland.

Even Seven blinked at the news, staring from Tuvok to Chakotay, who rose and walked to the window. "One of the first prisoners placed there was a Maquis founder and member of the Revolutionary Council." He turned and looked at them, his eyes glittering. "That man is my father, Kolopak of Dorvan V."

There wasn't a sound in the room for quite a long time.

=0=

Book Four: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

In the forward lounge on deck four, later...

Tom stared out the window, considering the changes that had happened over the past few hours. The meeting had been bad enough but the argument that he had with B'Elanna afterward had been worse. Following her to engineering after the meeting, he entered her office and closed the door. She turned, rage still informing every line of her taut body. "I can't talk now, Tom. I'm too upset."

Tom stood there, knowing they were at a crossroads. "We have to talk. Now."

She looked at him, her eyes emotional and blazing. "About what? What is there to say? Are you going to tell me that what I feel is wrong? That it's not important or ... or *right*?"

He glanced at the floor, pausing a moment as he gathered his wits under her withering emotional assault. "No, I'm not. B'Elanna, I don't know what to do. I don't ... I want to *help* you. Please ... let me help you."

"No! What the *hell* can you say? What the *hell* can you do? Nothing is going to make this right. Nothing is going to change what I feel. I am so filled with hatred that I could just ... just die." She turned, her eyes filled with tears of rage and despair. "I want to kill them all. All of them and nothing you can say or do will take that away or make it better."

He stood there, unable to speak and then he stepped forward, reaching out for her. She shook off his arm and stepped away, wiping tears from her eyes as she did. "I would like to be alone," she said, her back to him, rigid with tension.

Tom stared at her, his heart filming over with ice. "That's your problem, B'Elanna. That's always been your problem hasn't it. You don't need anyone,. You don't need anything. Well, fine.

Don't worry about me. I'm sure Chakotay will give me back my old cabin if I ask him."

She turned and looked at him, her eyes glistening. Then, with a sad shake of his head, he turned and left the room, walking down the stairs and onward to the door beyond. She watched him go, filled with emotional turmoil but she didn't follow him. She couldn't. He was the last straw in a long line of them and she didn't have the emotion to spare. Turning, her mind numb with the accumulated hurt of days, she began to work on her part of the plan they would implement in a few days time.

**********Near the window, deck four lounge...

He swallowed unshed tears, fighting to make a level place for his heart. The encounter hadn't been long but something in him told him that there was a finality about it that hadn't been there before. She had rejected him when his only thought was to comfort her. She had rejected him. He had recoiled, filled with hurt and anger of his own. Friends of his were in prison too. She had turned from him, rejecting him. He had turned from her, electing to move from her rage to a place more neutral, his old cabin.

He had called to Chakotay, asking for permission to have his cabin and after a pause Chakotay had granted it. He had signed off, moving to the window of this room that was coming to mean comfort to him. Last night he had slept wrapped up in Nayib's body, the warmth and solidity of the older man immeasurably comforting. He had been lulled by Nayib into thinking that persistence and communication would win out over ... over whatever the hell it was turning his life upside down.

Of course, he had been a fool, a fourteen carat gold fool. All he could do was step back, moving from the furnace of his wife's hatred for life and the hand it dealt her to ... what?

Loneliness.

Aloneness.

Alone.

He was alone again, as far removed from her as if he had never met her. Maybe he could let her cool down and they could talk again. Even as he thought that he knew something this time made it all futile. He had a searingly painful feeling that this time nothing he could say would change things.

"Chakotay to Paris."

"Paris here."

"Mr. Paris, I would like to see you in my Ready Room."

"On my way."

Tom took a deep breath and turned, walking to the door. Pausing, pulling himself together, he walked out and into the corridor, heading for the lift and the Bridge that lay beyond.

**********Ready Room...

Chakotay paced, waiting for Tom to come. He had granted his request, a sense of foreboding filling him as he did. Tom and B'Elanna were no longer living together. Since the return, he had watched B'Elanna morph back into the woman she was when she first came to him. She had been emotional, fierce and more Klingon in some ways than she was before the Vedek hit them. All of her baby steps toward balance had been derailed and she was the efficient and hardheaded woman that had come to him determined to kill Cardassians and help the Maquis. She was a woman of extremes, guarded and obstinate. Never one to allow easy access, she had nevertheless grown open to some, Tom included. He had never expected them to last until marriage but his observations of them following it made him believe they would be together forever.

He had not foreseen this.

Pausing before the window, he examined things he didn't want to touch, things that pooled in his gut and made him uneasy. He was secretly glad even though it conflicted him greatly. Tom was one step closer to being free. The price was steep but he was closer to being cut loose.

He wanted to talk to him now, if the taciturn and hardheaded man would open up and see where everyone stood. This fell within his pervue as Captain. If they had anger and were feuding it could counter their teamwork, making them vulnerable. If he played his cards right, he might learn what he had to know and what he yearned to know. And even as he thought it, he felt the heat of his own shame creeping up his cheeks. The door buzzed and he turned, gathering himself. "Come."

Tom entered and paused before the desk, awkward and silent. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Chakotay said, stepping forward. "Sit."

"I'd rather stand," Tom said, his hands clenching and unclenching convulsively.

"Please," Chakotay said gently. "Sit."

He hesitated for a moment and then Tom turned, sitting tensely on a chair across from Chakotay's desk. Chakotay watched him and then turned to the replicator, punching in a code and taking the glasses that materialized into his hands. Turning, he walked over and gave one to Tom, sitting in the other chair, a small table between them. Tom sipped his wine and looked around. "Nice touches," he said, acknowledging the few items of Chakotay's personal belongings here and there. "You did nice things with the old place."

Chakotay almost smiled, recognizing a Tom he hadn't seen in years.

"Who are you and what have you done with Tom Paris?" he asked, noting the flash of emotion crossing Tom's face.

He stared into his glass. "Well, *that* Paris is in the scrap heap along with just about everything else that matters in this life." He took a deep swallow and looked at Chakotay. "This is good. Real."

Chakotay nodded. "We're Maquis now. No more of that synthesized Federation shit."

Tom nodded, a wry look on his face. "It tastes like pee, synthehol. Like warm pee."

"I won't ask you how you know that," Chakotay said, a slight grin on his face.

"It would amaze you what I know," Tom said, gazing back into his glass. "I'm a *fucking* genius."

Chakotay swallowed hard at the implications of his emphasis and sighed. "I'm sorry, Tom."

Tom looked up, his eyes filled with emotion that never reached his face. "I know."

They sat together a moment. Then Tom sighed.

"Your brother, Nayib ... he's quite a man."

Chakotay nodded.

"He saved my life last night. I threw myself at him. I wanted him to fuck me until my brains fell out but he wouldn't do it. I mean, he *wanted* to but he didn't."

Chakotay swallowed hard, nodding. "Why?"

"Because he said ..." Tom laughed slightly, ruefully. He looked up and met Chakotay's dark gaze. "He said that you loved me." He swallowed hard. "He said just that, you know and I thought, well isn't that something. Don't you think that's something?"

Chakotay felt his face burn with the rising of his distress and he sighed, holding his glass tightly. "It's true," he said quietly.

"Well, I wish I had *known*," Tom said, his voice filled with tears. "I wish I would have known."

They sat together quietly, neither willing to speak around the sorrow gathered in their throats. Finally Tom swallowed the wine in his glass and rose, setting it carefully on the table. "I have to go. I have to pack a few things."

"Tom, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I truly am."

Tom looked at him for the longest time and then nodded slightly. Licking his lips, he turned and walked to the door. As he got there he paused and turned, meeting Chakotay's gaze levelly. "Don't worry that I won't be able to do my job. I'll do the job, Chakotay."

"I have never doubted it, Tom," Chakotay said quietly.

Tom stood a moment and then nodded, turning and leaving silently. Chakotay watched him go, the door closing on him and then he sighed. Life sucked and then you died, he thought leaning his head back against his chair. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, weariness settling deep into his bones. He would sit there for a long time, alone.

=0=

Book Four: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

In a shipyard, far away from the DMZ...

She stared at it, noting its familiar lines, its perfect symmetry. It was so like her, yet so unlike her, Kathryn paused. She was to be piped on board, signaled into her new ship by the boson's mate and then she would command again. They had given her time to unwind and then told her of the ituation on the rim. They told her of the need for good commanders and of the need to retrieve her old ship.

Voyager was renamed, they told her. It was called the Crazy Horse. She knew its name before they even told her, aware of the small ship that had flown into an inferno so that they could all live. She remembered the man who had done it, the man who had become her friend and her good right arm. He was the man who had tried to love her but she had demurred. She had stepped back, corseting herself in the ideal of loneliness at the top. One cannot allow distractions when one was in the position of redemption.

Redemption it was, too.

She had stranded them, losing them the chance to go home and that anvil had weighed around her neck for seven long years. It had extracted the youth from her, the infectious joy for living and nearly the marrow from her bones. She had aged, something confirmed by the startled but recovered looks in the eyes of her mother and sister. She had become harder, less humorous and more given to taking things into her own hands. She had depended on Tuvok more than Chakotay in the deeper decisions, trusting their relationship more. He had no emotional neediness in relation to her and in her quest to bring them home, she couldn't take on more of that than the full burden of her own.

Then Tuvok had turned, moving away from her through the machinations of a Vedek from this quadrant, someone probably still here who sat and tugged at them all with his silver strings. She had told them of him and they had hunted for him, causing him to go underground. The hardcore Maquis resistance had taken him in and he had disappeared.

She was here now, standing in the shuttleway, moving toward a destiny she couldn't have dreamed of in a lifetime of dreaming big. She was to chase her companions, her friends of a thousand terrible ordeals and take them into custody. They had told her they preferred that but they would settle for evidence that they had been blown to tiny molecules.

There were no gray areas in this world of duty, fidelity and honor. They expected their pound of flesh and she was detailed to get it. Who better than her?

/... I worked with your father on the Al-batani.../

So be it, she thought, stepping forward. The whistle sounded and the protocol of granting permission to board given. She nodded, taking command with a single step. It was her ship, this Intrepid Class twin of her beloved Voyager. She was Captain of the latest version of her first command, the Federation Star Ship Sorrel Bay.

Sorrel Bay.

The great curve of seaside running down to the ancient sea of Tepis. She had never been there but it was the name of her new home, her weapon which she was expected to wield with suitable ruthlessness and tenacity. She decided in the quiet of her mother's home to do it. She would be the one who would go after them and bring them back. She would be the one who would sight them down and if necessary pull the trigger.

No one else would do that. Just her. They had her ship, they had her crew and they had her broken-hearted disbelief. She would chase them and try to save them because she knew if she wasn't the one, someone else would do it and one of them wouldn't come back alive. Maybe, just maybe she could bring them both back in one piece. She strode down the corridor, noting things and nodding to crew. She was a legend, a force of nature from the ordeal she had steered and people were slightly in awe of her. She stepped into the lift and in seconds was on her Bridge. Stepping out, she heard a shout and people stepped to attention.

"Captain on the Bridge!"

She stepped out, the omnipotent power of command swelling through her for the briefest of seconds before the terrible weight of her purpose found her again. "At ease," she said, looking around the room.

A tall man stepped forward, handsome and exotic. "Captain, welcome aboard."

"Thank you. You're my First Officer, I presume?"

He smiled, a beautiful thing and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Commander Geordi LeForge at your service. We meet at last."

She nodded, noting briefly in her mind his distinguished service on Enterprise and his handpicked status as her First Officer. She turned and walked to her seat, sitting down in the chair. Looking up at LeForge, she nodded. "Mr. LeForge, take us out of here."

He nodded, turning to the helm. "Mr. Crusher, take us out of port."

The newly minted Lieutenant nodded, once again thanking his lucky stars to have a 'rabbi' as connected as Geordi LeForge. He turned, his heart pounding with anticipation over the coming mission. "Com-Cen, this is the Sorrel Bay. Requesting permission to stand out of port."

"Sorrel Bay, this is Com-Cen. You are cleared to leave. Good sailing and god speed."

"Affirmative, Jupiter Station. Thank you."

Youthful but experienced hands flew over the panel and the great ship slipped its berth, heading for open space. Geordi turned and took his seat next to Janeway, relaxing slightly from his earlier nervous tension.

"Awaiting orders to go to warp, sir," Wesley said, glancing over his shoulder.

Kathryn stared at him, thinking of another even as she sat next to a total stranger. They had conversed for a long time, the two of them, and they were reasonably comfortable with each other. However, she wasn't Picard and he wasn't Chakotay. It would take time. She sighed and nodded. "Take us out, warp six, Mr. Crusher."

"Aye, ma'am," he said, turning and making it so.

She watched him, missing acutely what she had come to count on for too many long and terrible years. That was in the past, she told herself, sitting up straighter. That was then, Kathryn. You have to take what you've been dealt and find the good. Her mother had said so, helping her come clear on her thinking. She would take this lemon and make lemonade. Rising from her chair, she turned. "Take the conn, Commander."

He nodded and watched her walk to her Ready Room. She was an enigma to him but he was determined to be her right arm. Sitting back, he watched as they streaked toward the Badlands and the domain of their nemesis, the Maquis warrior, Chakotay.

**********Port, Maquis Country...

He beamed down, ready to lose himself in the sounds and sights all around him. The town, something called Broken Tree, was a colony that had fallen on the wrong side of corporate concerns and was held by the Cardassians off and on for some time. A concerted push by the Maquis, coupled with the gaining of the Federation in their war with the green lizard bastards had given them ownership of the place.

It had become their capital, their main base and their refuge from the sometimes-overwhelming might of the Federation. It was part refugee shelter, staging area, rear-area medivac center, town with hopes for normalcy, and pit stop for vetted civilian freighters. People came here to refurb, rest up and get laid. With every place in strife that people accumulates, there were bars and brothels. However, here they operated under Maquis law and there were high prices to pay for stepping over the line.

He walked along the street, passing bars and restaurants, aliens of all kinds, Maquis and civilian and when he got to a tough-looking place, he entered, moving to the bar. He bought a beer, turning and scanning the crowd. There was the usual assortment, men and women and some of indeterminate sex. He eyed them with interest, his plan to debauch himself becoming much more interesting with an indeterminate object of lust.

One of them, a tall woman-like man of androgynous sexual identity walked over, leaning onto the bar. She/he stared at him, noting his fair looks and obvious intent. "My name is Oola. What's yours?"

He smiled, noting her firm cleavage and slim, boyish ass. "Paris. Tom Paris."

Oola smiled, noting him noting her wares. They were available for a price she informed him, watching as he smiled without humor at her bright conversation.

"You're a Midran."

"That's right. You don't mind do you?" the alien asked with a pout.

"No," Tom said, thinking he would get two for the price of one. "I don't mind a bit."

They stood together, drinking their beer and then she took his hand, leading him away. They went outside and walked down the street, passing strangers all on their way to some place. He was on his way to a room where he would lose himself in the strange body of the alien whore walking beside him. It would alleviate this moment but there would be others.

More and more, they would come and he would have to cope. Right now, he pushed it all away. It was all he could do to deal with things right now. They turned into a hotel, small and neat, and he followed Oola up the stairs. She opened a door and they both went inside. It was meticulously clean, neat and spare. A big bed dominated the room. She turned and looked at him, his money safely tucked into a pocket. "Why don't you stand there and let me show you what you bought."

She reached back and unfastened her stays, the bodice that held in her cleavage falling apart. Two breasts, round and pert, spilled out, nipples already hard. She tossed it aside and reached down, unbelting her stays around her very trim waist. The skirt, full and white fell to her feet, revealing long and very creamy legs. Tom looked down, finding what he knew would be there. With a smirk, he moved to Oola, reaching down into her panties. He gripped the cock that was held fast behind the silk and gazed into her eyes. "You like that don't you?" she/he asked, gasping around the sensations that Tom's fingers were coaxing out of her groin.

"Oh, I do," Tom said, biting her neck and sucking the soft skin. "I really do."

The Midran smiled, knowing full well that she would get a workout from this one tonight. He looked like a sport, someone who wanted to fuck and be fucked. She/he could provide that and then some. They would both get some and then part the ways, he to go wherever he came from and her to go back onto the street. Her unique biology made it possible for her to fuck men and be fucked by men. She had both facets of male and female and she never was out of clients, many of them becoming steady customers for her specialized wares. That's why Star Fleet had recruited her. That's why she worked for them, finding out what she could and selling it back to them.

Of course, that didn't mean that her contacts didn't want the unique experience of Midran biology themselves. And if in the course of fucking a few Star Fleet agents for money she/he learned something the Maquis needed to know, more power to her. What was a girl all alone supposed to do? She smiled and unbuttoned his shirt, stripping him in no time. They fell together on the bed, him crawling on top of her devouring her right and left. It would be a rough ride until she topped and top she would. This one wanted the whole works and she was ready to deliver. If she could find something out in the course of fucking him, her day would be complete. She spread her legs and gave it up, waiting patiently as the man lying on top of her ground his way to release.

**********At the fortified Maquis HQ...

Chakotay stood in the doorway, breathing deeply the cold night air of a real planet. It would take a long time before he got over that simple thrill. The stars were out, twinkling in the sky and behind him the sounds of people closing up shop could be heard. They had returned, coming back to port and he had spent hours with his brothers debriefing and planning.

Nayib came out, stopping beside him. "It's nice out. Good night."

"Yeah," Chakotay agreed. "I wonder how Papa is?"

"He'll be better when we get him back."

Chakotay nodded and turned, regarding his brother intently. "Tom told me that you said I loved him."

Nayib looked at his brother, considering him. "You do."

"Yeah, but he's married."

"So. If you hadn't been such a jerk and kept your tongue, you might be sleeping with him and not B'Elanna."

"They aren't together," Chakotay corrected, shaking his head.

"Shit," Nayib said, his expression hardening. "They've split?"

"For now. I think he's waiting to see if she cools off."

"She might not," Nayib said, staring at Chakotay intently.

"She might not take him back."

Chakotay turned and looked at the stars. "I can't do anything. Either way I lose. I want him but he isn't free and may never be. If I get him she'll be hurt. It's a no winner."

"Patience, Chakotay. If they split for good then you can try your luck. If they don't, it wasn't meant to be. You have a good man in Tabor."

"He's a wonderful man but I don't love him like Tom.

Tabor knows it. He talks to me about Tom."

"He does?" Nayib said, grinning broadly. "He's my kind of man. If you ever leave him, let me know. I get first refusal."

Chakotay grinned and looked at his brother, shaking his head.

"You're a piece of work did you know that?"

"I think that's what he said."

"Tom?"

"Yeah."

They stood together.

"He said he threw himself at you, Nubby. He said you saved his life because you didn't take him."

Nayib sighed. "I knew you loved him. You're my brother and even if there are times when I hate you I would never be that low. However ..."

Chakotay turned to him, an expectant grin on his face. "Yes?"

"I meant it about Tabor. Okay?"

Chakotay snorted and laughed outloud. "Alright. First refusal." He stared at his brother. "We're both dogs aren't we?"

"We are," Nayib said, shaking his head. "Maybe that's why I love you so."

Bey stepped from the building and slipping an arm around each man's shoulders. "Let's go eat."

"Who is buying?" Nayib asked.

"Why, Chakotay is of course," Nayib said, grinning broadly.

They stepped off together into the darkness, walking toward the town, disappearing into the crowds in seconds.

**********At the hotel...

Tom tucked his shirt in, his damp hair curling around his ears. He had showered from his exertions, dressing slowly, watching the man-woman on the bed as she/he watched him.

"Thanks," Tom said, pulling on his jacket. His ass burned and would be sore for a while but it felt good. After he had fucked the Midran, the Midran fucked him. Good and hard and long. It had been a while, he considered, but it felt great.

"No problem," she/he said, smiling. "Come again."

Tom smiled, pausing by the door. "Count on it."

He stepped out and disappeared into the hallway, heading for his life beyond. The Midran lay back, considering this new one.

"I do, sweet boy, I truly do," she/he said to no one in

particular.

=0=

c2000 Nov TBC


	5. Chapter 5

0=

Book Five: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Later, on the street...

He walked down the street, heading back for the ship when he saw them. They were walking together, three brothers, a shared history. He paused and watched, noting that they were heading for a cafe. Impulses drew him and he followed, standing on a corner as they took a seat at a table on the sidewalk. A table under an awning facing the street settled them well, a waiter serving coffee nearly immediately. They spoke a moment and the waiter went away.

Leaning in together, they began to converse with each other. Tom watched them, feeling lonely. They had something together, something he would never know. They had each other. Sighing, he leaned against a wall, suddenly unsure of where to go. It was warm, early evening and he was at loose ends. The waiter brought their platter, a rice dish piled upon it. He set down plates and turned to bring the rest of their food. As he did, Nayib looked up and spotted Tom across the street. "Well, don't all look at once but there's Tom Paris," he said peering over at the corner.

"He's there?" Chakotay asked, his eyes focused on the food before him.

"Yeah," Nayib said, rising. "I'm going to get him."

"What if he doesn't want to come?" Bey asked, looking up at his brother.

"No one can say no to me, not when I put out," Nayib said with a snicker.

"Shit," Chakotay said, grinning broadly.

Nayib turned and hurried across the street, making tracks before Tom could turn and leave. Tom saw him and moved to leave but he didn't have a chance.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Nayib asked, smiling broadly at the younger man. "Come and join us. We're eating."

"I noticed," Tom said suddenly uneasy. "You have a flair for the obvious."

"That's me. Obvious. Come on," Nayib said, gesturing for him to follow.

Tom sighed and smiled. "Your brothers won't mind?"

"Are you serious? Half of them want to bang you more than *I* do and you know how considerable *that* is."

Tom snorted and grinned broadly. "One can hardly say no to something like that."

"True, baby," Nayib said, a cocky expression on his face. "Come on. Chakotay's buying."

"How can I say no?"

"You can't," Nayib said, taking him by the arm. They turned and crossed the street, walking to the table where the other two sat. Nayib pulled out a chair and pressed Tom into it. He walked around and sat himself.

"Here," Nayib said, handing him a plate. "Eat. You look like you haven't had dinner yet."

"I haven't," Tom said, filling a plate with rice and other dishes. He took a drink of his water, his eyes flickering to Bey and Chakotay.

"You look like you went swimming," Nayib said, eyeing Tom's still damp hair.

He paused for a moment and shrugged. Chakotay stared at him, noting his tired eyes. He looked bad, the strain of his private life obvious. He felt a burst of compassion and guilt suffuse him and he suppressed it quickly. He had other things to do, other responsibilities and he couldn't get involved, not with people this close to him.

"Your mission went well," Bey said. "The refugees made it to their new home today."

"Good," Chakotay said. "We had a short chat with Defiant. Kira Nerys."

"I know her," Bey said. "Security at Deep Space Nine."

Chakotay nodded. "I saw her when I was there to close an arms deal. She's tough and there could be trouble."

"You scored against her," Tom said. "Your remarks about Bajor hit her where she lived."

"If we can prevent a fight without looking weak then we better. It's a waste of energy and resources if we have to fight,"

Nayib said.

Bey looked at Tom, noting his quiet manner. "Did Chakotay tell you?"

Tom looked up, a questioning expression on his face. "Tell me what?"

Chakotay looked at him, glancing at Bey for a moment. Bey nodded and Chakotay began. "Kathryn has another ship, a newer version of Voyager. She's heading this way."

Tom stared at Chakotay, his appetite suddenly disappearing. He put down his fork and sat back, staring at the older man. "What do you suppose she's coming for need I ask?"

"My head on a platter most likely," Chakotay sighed. "Maybe she wants my balls in a jar on her desk again."

"You did your job. You never lost your manhood. Much," Tom said, a slight smile on his face.

Chakotay grinned, a bright and surprised flash of dimples. "That's good to know. I was a First Officer before. It never seemed emasculating then."

"Your Captain was a man?" Nayib asked, curiously.

"He was but that's not it. She never ... she never really trusted me, not down deep. I always felt like we were at the opposite ends of different spectrums of the same problem. I was left out of a lot of decisions."

"Some of it ... the spy thing early on ... I'm sorry about it," Tom said, sighing. "That whole business-"

"Is ancient history, Tom," Chakotay said. "The decision not to include me is hers not yours."

Tom looked at him and nodded, sighing. "This is something, isn't it? We were together, more than together over there and now we're enemies again. It takes my breath away."

"Our people didn't deserve this. None of us do. Their inclusion is part of the problem now. They're all in the same prison. If we go and get my father and the other six then we have to do something about our other people. That brings the count up to fifty-six," Chakotay said, musing.

"Your people are pros. They'll be able to improvise," Bey said, musing. "Of course, if we could *get* someone in there with a plan to organize them then that would be great."

They sat a moment and then Tom put down his spoon. "I'll do it."

Chakotay sat back, putting his glass down. "You can't guarantee that you'd go to Rosswell. What if they put you back in Auckland?"

"They wouldn't. I'm supposed to be disappeared, remember?" It was silent a moment and then Nayib leaned forward. "How about two of us? How about the two of us being taken, say, in a shuttle ride to some place. We can take the plan with us under conditioning. If we use a trigger that can bring it all back to us, some kind of common Maquis saying that the others can say then we can organize inside the camp."

"We need intelligence on the camp first," Chakotay countered, fear rising inside of him.

"Let's not decide now," Bey said noting Chakotay's unease.

"Let's eat and talk and relax. Tomorrow, we can decide. Tomorrow."

Nayib nodded and grinned. "Eat. Drink. *Damn*, I wish Maris were here."

Bey snorted and laughed aloud. "I don't think my heart can take anymore of you and Maris."

"I wish I had met him," Chakotay said, smiling at Nayib.

"Did I ever tell you of the time he threw me off a six-story balcony?" Nayib said, leaning back in his chair.

"*What*?" Chakotay said, surprised.

"Oh, lord," Bey said, chuckling. "You don't know the half of it. They were having a difference of opinion-"

"Hell, we were tearing up the world and Maris finally gets totally pissed off, picks me up and tosses me off the balcony of our place."

"You *fell* six *stories*?" Chakotay asked, appalled.

"Yeah. I landed in the pool. Fortunately there was water in it." Nayib shook his head and sighed. "God, we had some good times, that man and me."

"Were you *hurt*?" Chakotay asked still appalled.

"Just shaken," Nayib said, grinning broadly. "He threw me far enough to make sure I hit the water. Thank god."

Chakotay snickered and sighed. "I'm speechless."

"Good," Nayib said, smiling. "Eat."

They dug in, talking about anything but what they were about and by the time they were done they were at peace again. They paid and left, ambling down the street, noting the crowds and the noise. They entered a bar, moving to a table. They bought beer and Nayib challenged Tom to a game of pool. They walked over, choosing cues and bantering. Chakotay watched them, his mind mulling the potential of their success of making a prison break happen.

Bey, noting his brother's silence, practically read his mind. "It'll be better if we have someone inside. You know it and I do too. We might be able to get them all out or at least into the population where the media can see them. You know it, Chakotay."

"I do," Chakotay agreed, "but I also know that Tom and B'Elanna just separated and when Tom's upset he has a tendencu to take chances. I don't want anything to happen to him."

"We're in the Maquis, Chakotay. We're at war with the Federation. We *were* at war when you first came together."

"True," Chakotay said, sighing deeply. "However that was different. We were all together and if we died, we died together. He'd be in a cage in a place we can't get to. Nayib, too. I find that hard to swallow."

"You love them." Bey watched as Nayib sunk a shot and crowed to Tom, the blond snickering and setting up his own. "I love Nayib. When ... when Papa was left behind I thought I would die. I didn't think I could come back from the insanity that took over. I could see all kinds of terrible things being done to him and I couldn't save him." Bey paused, swallowing hard. "Nayib came and took care of me until I could fashion some sort of balance. He saved my life."

"Bey, I wish I was here then. I'm so sorry that I wasn't."

"It wasn't your fault, Chakotay. None of it. We made it through."

"I love Tom, Bey. I have for so long I can't remember how things were before he was there. It's all so fucking *stupid* *Why* can't they just quit and negotiate a settlement? *Why* are they holding Papa all this time?"

Bey shrugged. "I gave up trying to understand them. I just know that without us, the rim would be totally at their mercy and there are too many of them out there that want vengeance.

"Vengeance," Chakotay snorted, looking at Bey squarely. "If I remember correctly, *those* fuckers cut *us* loose."

Bey shrugged. "You know that and *I* know that. I wonder how many people of the Federation know how it is out here and how it got to be this way."

"We need to make sure they do."

"If we can free all of the prisoners somehow then it would be possible to get to the media and tell the story. They'd have a hard time quashing fifty news outlets talking to fifty different people."

Chakotay sighed and nodded. "Let's play pool. Let's kick some ass."

Bey snorted and rose, smiling at his brother. "I'm very good but Nubby is better."

"That's all right," Chakotay said jauntily. "I'm partnering with Tom and he's the best."

With a slap on the back, the two men walked over and joined the game in progress.

**********On the way to the rim...

Kathryn Janeway stood before her mirror, drying her face with a soft towel. She stared at herself abstractly, noting the serious cast to her expression. She was tired, having worked fourteen-hour days and now she had taken an early evening, eating dinner in her private dining room and taking a long hot soak.

She turned and walked to her bedroom, a room that was larger than her other on Voyager. In fact, all of her private quarters were larger. They were luxurious and designed to give her not only comforts but show any visitor that the Federation valued her highly. Her tea sat waiting and she took it, walking to the window. She sipped it and watched the stars go by. On her desk were letters from her family and her replies. She would send them before bed.

As she stood there she wondered for the thousandth time what they were doing on her *other* ship. She had not mentally and emotionally given that one away and she doubted she ever would. It was too much a part of her psyche, her whole identity. That Chakotay should take it from her, especially the way he did, was unforgivable and even to think of it made her heart ache. Was he living in her cabin? Did he use her Ready Room? Did the crew call him Captain? She was sure the answer to all three questions was yes. She was sure that they had left her mentally and emotionally behind and that stung. She would have to find them and bring them back. If they weren't brought to heel then others would come and they would *have* to fight.

She wasn't sure if she would have to fight them but she was sure that Chakotay would be hard to find, even with a ship the size of Voyager. He would be very crafty and he knew as much about Star Fleet's tactics as she did; how to run and how to hide. He would know *her* like a book. If he knew that she was coming, and she believed he probably did, then it would be a game of dueling. They wouldn't have any thing to hide, so well known were they to the other.

It would be like it was all over again although the stakes were higher. She was convinced he would never surrender. The look in his eyes when he told her he knew that she had knowledge of his father had told her that the schism between them was cavernous. It wouldn't be bridged easily, if ever. She sighed deeply, her thoughts on that issue highly emotional. She had carried the burden of knowing about Kolopak for a whole year alone. Every time she had looked at Chakotay, she had seen his father's face. It had been painful and terrible. She hadn't told him because he could do nothing. Kolopak was in a Federal prison and Chakotay wouldn't be able to help him. She might. She tried. She sent dossiers and reports, letters and memorandums. She had pleaded for them, every one of them but when they came out the other side there was no turning back.

Voyager was Maquis now and the game was on again. She would hunt him, he would hunt her and they would duel. They would duel on even playing fields this time, Voyager easily the equal of her own new ship. Chakotay had top-notch crew and experienced ones. Her own was a mix of war veterans and very green crew.

It would be interesting to see what happened, she thought as she turned and walked to her bedroom. She would try and sleep now, freshness for the next day a demand she couldn't deny. Tomorrow, she thought, they would all see what came. With a command of her voice, the lights went out and she lay down, her eyes open and her mind racing. It would take a while to sleep but it would finally come.

**********In the holodeck simulation of Ten Forward...

The crowd was a pretty good sized as Wesley walked in, searching the tables for a familiar face. Spotting Geordi, he walked over and sat.

"You look chipper," Geordi said, grinning at Wesley.

"I got through my shift without getting dressed down. I consider that a cause for celebration," Wesley said, grinning broadly.

"I do too," Geordi said, signaling the holographic waitress. They ordered and leaned in together.

"How is it being her XO?" Wesley asked.

"Interesting," Geordi replied. "She's got a total hard on for Voyager. I think we'll probably have to fight if it comes down to it. I don't think compromise is a word that's left in her vocabulary."

"They *did* take her ship," Wesley countered.

"Yes they did," he replied, sipping his beer. "In their place, I would too. She's smart, Wes, and very tough. She's also humiliated and furious. That's not a good combination for someone doing a job like this."

"Star Fleet figures who's better able to find Voyager again."

"Probably. But whose judgment is the most clear? Hers? I'm not sure."

Wesley sighed. "Sounds like an interesting trip ahead."

"No doubt," Geordi said, nodding in agreement. "Keep your head up."

Wesley could only nod.

**********Crazy Horse, later that night...

Chakotay and Tom stepped from the transporter platform and walked to the lift together. Entering, they called for the same floor.

"Thanks for giving me my cabin. It's nice to get off the couch in the lounge."

Chakotay nodded. "No problem. Are you two going to talk about this? You really need to. I can talk to her too."

"Not about this, please, Chakotay," Tom said, shaking his head emotionally. "I don't think she's prepared to listen to anyone."

They were silent a moment and then Chakotay glanced away. "Chakotay?"

He looked back just as the lift stopped.

"Thanks for everything. Thanks ... thanks ..." Tom stopped a moment and swallowed. "Thanks for loving me."

His voice was soft, a whisper. Chakotay looked at him, dejected and sad and on impulse stepped forward, pausing before him. Tom looked up and straightened, his eyes focused completely on Chakotay's. Slowly, hesitantly, he slipped his arms around Chakotay's neck, relaxing as he felt Chakotay's arms encircle him.

They held each other a long time and then Tom stepped back, his face filled with emotion and conflict. Licking his lips, he nodded and slipped past Chakotay, walking quickly down the corridor. He keyed the lock on his door and entered, the door closing behind him.

Chakotay watched him, noting every movement he made until he disappeared. Then he turned and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he sighed deeply. The door to the lift slowly and silently closed.

=0=

Book Five: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

They stood out the next day, plans to meet after a border patrol having gelled. The basic outline of goals was formulated already. All they needed was a plan to implement it but it meant that they would need to do recon first. Bey was making those preparations even as Nayib and the others worked out the logistics of going into the Federation, snooping around the most secure prison on Earth and getting out again with detailed plans.

They flew on through space, heading for a juncture where the Federation often attempted to provoke confrontation. There were weapons shipments coming in and they wanted to divert Federation interest so Voyager was to go to the convergence spot and pick a fight. Intelligence told them that Defiant was seen in that area with an escort of two light battlecruisers.

It was right up Chakotay's alley. He had gotten up in a bad mood, his quiet hard expression stilling comment. B'Elanna sat during the meeting, quiet and cool herself, not betraying anything she might be feeling. Tom sat silently and tense, adding to the overall tension that they felt.

The meeting concluded, letting them all go and they filed out, Tuvok and Chakotay talking together before they joined the others on the Bridge. Taking their stations, they jetted out, moving through space at warp eight.

Chakotay considered the upcoming mission, the dangers involved and the likelihood of being caught. He had decided on his crew, Tuvok, Tom and Harry for sure. He would take Seven as their engineer, leaving B'Elanna behind. Voyager would stay back at base as they used a modified Delta Flyer. Her signature and basic design were being changed by engineering crew planetside, markings modified and her hull painted to show aging.

He himself would be modified as well, changing into a Bajoran. Tom would become Trill, Tuvok remaining himself although he would wear a turban and pass as human. His eyebrows and other distinguishing characteristics would be modified for the journey. Seven would remain on board the ship, modifications short of surgery not possible. She would monitor the situation, keep a transporter lock on them and be ready to move at a moment's notice. Harry would remain as a human. He would be impossible to modify too without major surgical intervention.

They would fly to Earth via Mars. They would come as a delegation of tourists traveling together in a private group, Harry Kim their 'guide'. They would begin in Colorado at Mesa Verde and go to Rosswell to explore the mountains and surrounding area. Bey would get the permits and documentation, their forger's skill beyond expert, and they would do the rest. Scans would have to be made by hand and on foot and they would have to suffice. If they could go into the desert he felt they could get close enough to scan the place.

Once that was done, they would jet out and come back to base to work out the next step in their plan. That part bothered him terribly and he knew that the reason he felt so badly was because of it. Tom and Nayib getting arrested and getting into the camp would be the best way to go. Nothing would be easier and nothing would make it more successful than having the support and help of the people inside the installation. Sitting in his command chair, mulling over the impossibly slim possibilities, he knew that they were right. It was the best and perhaps only way to make not only a break but a way to alert the outside world that the news they were receiving might not be the most truthful.

"Why not just *tell* the news media? Surely we have people who can go to them," he had argued.

"Chakotay, what can we show them? Suspicions? They don't trust us any more than they really trust the current Federation government. The news of what's going on out here is censored and they could face being jailed if they tell."

He sighed, shaking his head. It was all so damned frustrating. Nothing meant more to him than getting his father and the others out. Nothing would ever still that fire. But losing Nayib and Tom to the whims of Federation hardliners, that was another story. He was afraid pure and simple.

"Captain, we have detected ships on the other side of the DMZ." Tuvok's voice was calm and level as he announced the presence of the enemy.

"Who are they?" Chakotay asked, glancing over his shoulder at his partner.

"It appears that Defiant and two smaller ships are patrolling the border."

"Are they aware of us?"

"Yes," Harry said. "They're turning and moving along their side of the DMZ parallel to us."

"Full stop."

Tom moved his fingers and the ship slid to a stop, hanging in space as they waited.

"The enemy is stopping and turning, waiting," Harry said, glancing up at the screen.

"They're hailing us," Tuvok said.

"Pipe it through," Chakotay said, relaxing into his chair.

"Commander Chakotay," an even voice said.

Chakotay noted Kira Nerys once more and waited, staring at her with an implacable look on his face. "You're trespassing on Federation space. Stand by for boarding," she said, her own expression hard and uncompromising.

Chakotay snorted and laughed. "Surely, Commander, you have to be joking. Cross the DMZ and *try* to board us."

She sat a moment and looked at him. "You won't win."

"That's a matter of opinion." Chakotay rose and walked to navigation. "You haven't destroyed us yet. You can't."

She stared at him and then her eyes drifted to Tom. "Mr. Paris. I met your father last week."

Tom didn't betray any emotion, staring at her with his usual facade in place.

"I met him and chatted. He wants you to come home."

"To prison?" Tom asked, bitterness in his voice.

"No. To your home. He has arranged through the Federation Council to get your sentence commuted. All you have to do is cross the DMZ and surrender to a Fleet ship."

"Then what? Auckland?"

"You're granted amnesty."

"And you, *Commander*, are a liar."

They stared at each other and then she sighed. "Too bad. You should believe me. Admiral Paris was adamant that we should

contact you. That's why we're here."

"You're here to fight. If you want to fight, Nerys, we're ready."

She stared at him, her face cold with barely contained contempt.

"Tell me, Commander. How does it feel to work for people who didn't help Bajor? How does it feel to be a part of the bigger picture? The picture that didn't include your own people as worthy of intervention? How does it feel to collaborate with the enemy of your people?"

She didn't move, she didn't speak, but her hands gripped the arm rests of her chair tighter.

"The Bajorans on board Voyager didn't fall for the Federation line. Neither did the people of the outer rim. You did. How does it feel to be a coward and a traitor to your own people?"

The screen went blank and Tuvok scanned his panel. "They're arming their weapons."

"Shields. Arm weapons." Chakotay turned and walked to his chair. "Be ready."

The three ships began to move forward, moving into the DMZ.

"Mr. Kim, get accurate scans of their violation."

"Aye, Captain," he said hunched over his board.

The Defiant came at them, nearly making it to the other side when it veered, slowing to move parallel along the line.

"Parallel them," Chakotay said, his eyes never leaving the panel next to him.

They followed along, Defiant and her cruisers inside the DMZ and Voyager on her side of it. As they moved, a cruiser broke free and flew at them, phasers firing.

"Fire at will, Tuvok!" Chakotay shouted rising and walking to the conn. He stood gripping the console, his eyes locked on the viewscreen before him.

Tuvok fired, grazing the vessel and it shuddered, exploding debris behind it. Defiant and the other ship turned and fired, flying at Voyager. Their bursts hit the shields, streaks of light that played across them and dissipated, rolling away into nothingness. Then Defiant fired again, rolling hard around and scored a hit on Voyager's side. They fired back, scoring the side of the retreating ship with flames even as they fired on the other cruiser.

Back and forth, swinging through ever tightening spaces, the three ships battled until a chance shot hit a cruiser's nacelle. It sheared off and exploded, the concussive blast hitting the side of the hull. It shuddered and erupted, fire and debris flying everywhere in a silent explosion. A chunk of the nacelle flew at Defiant, which was executing a tight turn and clipped it across one of its side nacelles rupturing it. Plasma poured out as it as it spun to one side.

The cruiser that erupted shuddered and splintered, spewing burning material all around them. Pieces flew at Voyager and she sheered away, missing most of them. The remaining cruiser, turning tightly, pulled back, moving away from the rapidly fading remains of its sister ship. Defiant limped away, spewing plasma and fire. Voyager turned, moving on her for the kill. The cruiser, fleeing as fast as it could, fired on them and was met with return fire as Voyager moved on Defiant.

"Open a channel to Defiant, Harry!" Chakotay called over the sound of panels shorting out and departments checking into the Bridge with damage and status reports. The screen flickered and Kira Nerys appeared. Her face was streaked by oily residue and she looked at him through dazed eyes.

"Surrender or we'll take out your other nacelle," Chakotay said, his eyes cold and implacable.

She looked around, fury on her face and then she nodded. "Do you guarantee our safety? My crew?"

"Yes," Chakotay said flatly. "Surrender without weapons and resistance or I'll blow you all to hell."

She stared at him and then nodded turning and speaking off camera. Then she turned and nodded again, the screen going blank.

"Harry, have they activated their self-destruct device?"

"No," Harry replied, glancing up.

"Tuvok, get them off that ship. Harry, are their shields up?"

"Their shields are off line, their weapons systems are off

line and their environmental integrity is compromised."

"Download their database, all of it, every square centimeter of it. Leave nothing behind," Chakotay said, moving to Tuvok's station. He stared at the readings, watching as three life pods from the destroyed cruiser deployed. "Harry, tell Tuvok we have life pods from the cruiser."

"Aye, Captain," Harry said, working furiously to comply.

"Tom, take us back a bit from Defiant. I don't trust Nerys."

"Aye," Tom said, backing her slowly away.

They stood on the Bridge, watching as the crippled ship was evacuated and when it was complete, they scanned her again.

"I don't understand how she didn't explode Defiant," Chakotay said, glancing up as the lift door opened and Tuvok stepped onto the Bridge.

"They're all evacuated. Several are very injured and in Sick Bay and the others are in the Brig. We have thirty-seven survivors all told."

"Why didn't they detonate Defiant?" Chakotay asked, moving as Tuvok took his place.

"They're command computer was hit, a surge taking out access to their primary systems as well as their self-destruct

capabilities. We had to beam people off Defiant, her doors and transporters were fused."

"That accounts for it. Put a tractor on that ship. I want to take her back."

"Aye," Tuvok said, making it so.

In the distance, a respectful distance, the remaining cruiser sat. In the few minutes it took to make a space battle, they had made the oldest mistakes in the world. They had engaged in battle in a rapidly shrinking field and in the proximity of closeness they had hurt each other.

Chakotay stepped to the conn, staring at the ship before him. He marveled at their luck, at the aggression of the other ships. Their ship was outnumbered and they should have moved off but he had a hunch from the way they came in that if they kept them flying in a steadily shrinking circle they might get lucky. Seconds, that's all it took in space, just seconds and it was all over. They had prevailed and the Federation was two ships shorter. Defiant wasn't a great ship, design flaws had cancelled her mass reproduction and she had been defeated and highly damaged in the past. He had remembered those moments, trusting in the crew of his own ship to make the moment count and they had.

Again.

He turned and patted Tom's shoulder. "Get us out of here, Tom." He nodded and began to edge back, towing Defiant with them. Chakotay watched a moment and then turned and walked to the lift.

"You have the conn, Tuvok."

He entered and called for the Brig, riding down to the deck and stepping off. His crew moved efficiently, working to bring themselves back to peak. He passed them, entering the Brig. All of the cells were filled, the crew that wasn't injured was incarcerated. He looked in each cell until he found the one he wanted.

Kira Nerys sat on the floor, staring into space as she awaited their fate. He stared at her until she looked at him.

"On your feet, Nerys," he said, his voice cold.

She hesitated and then rose, standing stiffly before him. He nodded to a guard who punched the release, resetting it when she stepped out. Turning, Chakotay walked to the door and she followed, moving with him down the corridor and to the lift beyond. He entered and she followed, standing silently beside him as he called for the Bridge. As they rode, they didn't speak and when they reached the Bridge, they stepped off, moving to the Captain's Ready Room together. He entered and she followed, watching as he moved to the replicator. He turned and looked at her. "Wine?" he asked, his dark eyes scrutinizing her.

She blinked and recovered. "Why? Are you proposing?"

"Maybe," Chakotay replied cryptically.

She nodded and waited, taking the replicated glass he handed to her. He nodded to the couch and after a second she moved and sat.

"This is good," she said, sipping the liquor.

Chakotay shrugged. "Benefit of being a Maquis," he said, sitting down in a chair across from her.

"What now?" she asked, bitterly. "A prison camp?"

"Probably. Unless you switch sides."

"Just like that?" she asked, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Consider how they sent you out here to patrol with a ship with known design flaws that even novice captains know about.

Obviously, certain sectors get the better ships and then there's this one. Consider how they put you against us. Even your ship and crew can't match a ship like ours and a crew as veteran as mine. The cruisers? Babies. They broke every rule in the book today. Why would you work for them?"

"Because, Commander, it's my job."

"It used to be mine too. No one ever believed harder than me in the ideals of the Federation and Star Fleet. I went against my family's wishes. Then they told me my father was dead and there *was* no other path for me. Even if I had stayed, they would never had trusted me. I'm from a Maquis family."

"Your family is Revolutionary Council people."

"My mother is under house arrest on our home world. This beautiful little woman who never did a wrong thing in her life is surrounded by soldiers and can't leave her house. They told me my father was dead." Chakotay paused, shaking his head. "My father isn't dead, Kira."

She stared at him, a frown forming on her face. "He was killed by the Cardassians."

"No, he wasn't." Chakotay leaned back, a look of outrage on his face. "He was traded for Cardassian hostages held by the Federation. I wonder who they traded my father for? Maybe some of the camp guards or maybe some of the policy makers that reduced Bajor to the level of a stone-aged society." He leaned forward, meeting her eyes levelly. "Aren't you even curious?"

She stared at him, her mind filled with turmoil. "Where is your father?"

Chakotay put down his glass, sitting back. "He's in a secret federal lockup for special prisoners near Rosswell, New Mexico, on Earth. He's been there for nine years and all that time we thought he was killed by the Cardassians. It sort of makes you wonder what else they've said that wasn't true."

She sighed deeply and finished her drink. Setting the glass on the table before her, she rose, standing stiffly. "May I return to the Brig?" she asked, her eyes revealing what her face didn't.

He rose and nodded. Walking to the door, he opened it and nodded to Greg Ayala, standing just outside. "Take Commander Kira to the Brig."

He nodded and waited as she walked over, stepping into the corridor. She hesitated and glanced back at him, staring at him for a moment. Then she turned and walked away. Chakotay watched her go and then sighed deeply. He had planted the doubt. Now all he could do was wait.

=0=

Book Five: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

Late that same night...

Chakotay slipped in, noting the place was dark. Moving to the bedroom, he noted that Tabor was sleeping in the bed, the weak light of stars bathing his still form. Chakotay moved to the bathroom, closing the door. He stripped and stepped into the shower, the warm water soothing to his tired body. It was glorious to have a water shower rather than the other kind and he took one as often as his schedule allowed.

Sighing deeply, he began to wash himself, cleansing himself of grime and weariness. Rinsing off, he stepped out and dried off. He finished his routine and stepped out, the light extinguishing itself, and walked naked to the bed, sliding into it. Lying back, his body groaned, every tired and tense muscle complaining.

Tabor sighed and rolled over, his black hair falling over his forehead. He looked innocent and beautiful to Chakotay and he turned on his side, watching Tabor as he slept. Their day had been filled with calmness and chaos, the short and intense battle going their way. Circumstances had combined and they had gotten lucky, the explosions careening off the tightly winding ships and they had capitalized on the inexperience of the cruiser captains and the ability of their own people.

They had destroyed a ship and he had ordered the death of others but there was no other choice. A message to him had informed him that the arms shipments had made their way to their destinations. Their diversion had made it possible Of course, this meant the stakes were upped and more people would be coming to comb through the edges of the DMZ, looking for him to even the score. It meant that no matter how things played out, they would have to pay for this moment.

So be it he thought, impulsively brushing Tabor's hair back. Dark eyes fluttered open and a smile spread across a welcoming face. "Hi," he said, moving closer and slipping his arm around Chakotay's waist.

"Hi," Chakotay replied, leaning in and kissing Tabor's soft lips.

"You did well today. You took two ships out of their arsenal."

He nodded. "I know. Costly for them. Costly for us all in the long run."

Tabor rose up on his elbow, his hand rubbing Chakotay's chest gently. He leaned down and kissed Chakotay's chest just above his heart. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Eventually," Chakotay replied, his hand rubbing up and down Tabor's smooth back. "You feel wonderful. I'm glad you're here, Tabor. I don't think I can tell you enough how much I appreciate you."

Tabor smiled and leaned down, lingering on Chakotay's lips. Chakotay kissed him back, delving into Tabor's mouth as his lips parted. Tabor leaned into him, moving to cover Chakotay with his own body. Chakotay pulled him close, holding him as they kissed. Tabor sighed, looking down into Chakotay's face. He rubbed Chakotay's nose with his own, sighing deeply once more. "You feel wonderful," he said. "You feel so good, Chakotay."

"So do you, beautiful," he said, rolling over. He moved closer to Tabor, pushing his leg between Tabor's. The younger man grunted, smiling broadly. He chuckled. "I *love* your knees, Chakotay," Tabor said, moving his legs slightly apart. He shifted and Chakotay's knee found its mark. He grinned and sighed, closing his eyes in pleasure. "I love them."

Chakotay chuckled, kissing Tabor on the lips over and over. "You're so beautiful," Chakotay whispered, mesmerized by the look on Tabor's face.

"Yeah, well, I'm yours," he said, looking into Chakotay's eyes with affection. "I'm yours as long as you need me."

Guilt crossed Chakotay's face. "Tabor, I don't want to hurt you. Please know-"

"I do," Tabor said, stilling Chakotay's words with a touch of his fingers. "It's okay. We're friends, good friends, and I want to be with you. Don't feel bad, Chakotay. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be."

Chakotay's expression relaxed and he smiled slightly. "You're a good man, Tabor. I love you."

"I know." Tabor grinned. "Love me then."

Chakotay smiled and lowered his mouth, covering Tabor's as he shifted to cover his body. For the next hour they would move, tenderly touching, softly talking, making love as they lay together in the darkness. In the end they would sleep wrapped in each other and in the morning the day would start all over again.

**********Elsewhere...

Tom sat on the couch, wearing only his boxers, a beer in his hand. He had showered and done his usual business, leaving a message on B'Elanna's terminal. There were no messages there for him and he swallowed his disappointment. Time. Maybe they needed time. She would learn to cope just as they all had and things would become normal again. He told himself that as he sipped his cold beer. The room was quiet and that for a change was very welcome to him.

He wanted quiet, the obscurity of silence and as he sat he considered his day. They had traded swings with the Fleet ships, capitalizing on their inexperience to win the day. Their brig was filled with prisoners, they had destroyed a vessel and taken another, the elite but flawed ship, Defiant. It was a coup. The day had continued and he had done his job, leaving finally when the gamma shift came on board. They had all left, Chakotay to more work and he with Harry for dinner.

They had sat together long hours, talking about everything but B'Elanna. By the time it was midway into the evening, they both knew bed was the place to go. He had risen, bantering and talking flippantly with Harry even as they rode the lift to the deck that he lived on now, alone. Harry had watched him, noting his glib exterior and reading the deep down signs of his distress.

Harry had gone to B'Elanna and tried to talk to her, to explain how distraught Tom was about what had happened. He hadn't been conditioned and he didn't know what was going on with the Maquis that were but in his eyes she had been the only one to go off the deep end. She had shut him out, fury rising at his persistence, and he had withdrawn to lick his wounds. It mystified him, her rage and concentration. No one else had it to her degree. Even Tuvok seemed to be himself.

"My floor," Tom said, stepping off with Harry.

"Are you two ever going to work this out, Tom?" Harry asked, worry clear in his voice.

"I don't know, Harry. I honestly can't say," he said, pausing before his cabin. "I don't even know where to start with her. She didn't confide in me before when she was hurting herself and she won't let me in now. Frankly, I don't know what's going to happen."

"I'm sorry, Tom," Harry said, his face as sad as his voice.

Tom looked at him and then stepped forward, embracing him tightly. They stood together, holding each other and then Tom stepped back, his expression one of tightly controlled emotion. He licked his lips, pulling himself together. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Tom. I'm here anytime you need me. I hope you know that."

"I do, Harry," he said, his voice soft with gratitude. "Thank you. For everything."

Harry nodded and affected a smile, turning reluctantly and walking down the corridor to his own cabin. He paused and looked back, watching as Tom entered his code and disappeared into his old rooms. He couldn't remember seeing anything so sad, not in a long, long time.

He sipped his beer, the acrid liquid slipping down his throat. He considered the past few days, the events that clustered in them and sighed. He had slept with Nayib, sort of, hearing from him startling news. Chakotay loved him. Chakotay actually was romantically inclined toward him. Sort of. He had sought relief in the bars, originally only going for a few beers and a bit of oblivion but when the Midran came to him, he knew he would have more.

He had seen so few of them, this rare bird, so seldom did they leave their own space. When they did, nearly invariably they ended up prostitutes. Their double endowments drove some men wild and they could count on steady customers and return business. He had fucked her/him senseless, at least to him it felt that way, and she/he had fucked him back.

In fact, it had been so long since someone had done that he had almost demurred but the long cock, the one he had held in his hand had called to him and the Midran had complied. His ass hurt, burning and stinging even though the self-lubrication of the Midran had assuaged some of it. He had taken out some of his frustrations on another only to find out when he came back that Chakotay really did love him. They had talked of it a little and he had thanked the big quiet man for caring. They had hugged, holding each other with almost desperation. He had felt a tugging to go with the big man, to lie down with him but he didn't. There was too much between them. Way too much. And there was also Tabor. He liked that man too, the quiet Bajoran very popular among the old crew.

Rising, he walked to the window, noting the Defiant coming along with him, held with a tractor beam. Caught and dragged along without any choice in the matter, that sort of described him right now. He was caught in the tractor beam of events bigger than all of them and there was no choice, no *real* choice in the matter.

He thought of the Bajoran's remarks. Had his father really sought his clemency? Had he really talked to her? What if he had? What else did he tell her? How was his mother? His sisters? What was going on? Did his father really, really want him?

He tried not to contemplate this, this almost alien emotion, the desire to really belong to someone. Neediness. It was for chumps. He couldn't allow himself to give in to hope for a relationship with his father. It was too dangerous. He had tried too many times and then he quit trying. It had led to a rift between them that seemed cataclysmic in dimension. Now, when it seemed that maybe his father might need and want him, he didn't know what to believe.

"She's lying. She has to be," Tom whispered. "I don't know what it means that he wants me back. Do you hear me?"

He called out, demanding to know from *someone* what was supposed to happen. He didn't know. Everything that had seemed so sure was scattered around his feet. Confetti, that's what his life had turned into. Small tattered bits of nothingness. At least here on this ship he had a place to be. Here he could do something for someone even if it wasn't for himself. He sighed and looked at his bottle, turning and stuffing it down the recycler. He turned and walked to the bedroom, pausing by the desk as he did. There was no reply to his mail to B'Elanna. Sadly, he turned and walked in to his bed.

Alone.

**********In the Brig...

Kira sat on the floor, giving up her bed to another. She was filled with turmoil. Her ship was in the hands of the enemy and she was captured with her crew. They had gone after the cruiser captain, his zeal to engage the enemy overtaking his better sense. They had been drawn into battle by his reckless disregard and in the tight corners and shattering chaos they had been destroyed. Chakotay had taken them apart, flying through the swirling mess with skill and coolness born of a thousand engagements.

She cursed herself for going after the cruiser. It had led to all their doom. Now they were headed for a prison camp for the 'duration', whatever that would be. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. He had offered her an out. He had told her of his own disappointments, his own anguish over supposedly true Federation words, all lies perhaps. His father, Kolopak of Dorvan V, was a known terrorist and had been killed by the Cardassians years ago.

Of course, the *Cardassians* never lie...

She tried not to think of it, worrying about the future even as her present crumbled around her. The government of the Federation was hardline, a holdover from the Dominion War and they were dedicated ... no ... obsessed with ending the Maquis one way or another. It didn't surprise her that they were hiding information from him and his. What bothered her was that they were hiding it from her.

She had suffered through years of her life with liars and double dealers running the show of her home world. Little did she believe that it wouldn't happen again. After all, they were at war.

War.

She was weary right now, deeply and furiously weary. She would have to make up her mind in a few days and take what came. Until then she would tend her people and try and relax. Across from her, Julian Bashir and Miles O'Brien looked at her, their feelings clear on their face. She hoped to be able to talk to them before they got to where they were going. She needed to talk to them in the worst way.

**********At the base beyond...

It was evening, the sun setting as the night lights began to flicker on. People came out, finished with the work of the day, ready to eat, drink, or play. She walked down the street, her long legs swathed in blue silk. The skirt that swirled around them hugged her small waist tightly, accented enticingly by the seductive swing of her hips. Her long hair hung to her waist, red from the dye she routinely used and thick, coming off a slight widow's peak.

A tight blue silk bustier held her nice cleavage out where it could be seen to good advantage and she let her blue jacket, an expensive lambskin affair hang open so that all could enjoy the view. Her lips were red and shiny, ready to be kissed. Inviting kissing. Demanding to be kissed. She walked on four-inch spike heels, a sashay that was something to behold. And as she passed men on her stroll, they looked long and hard. No one on the street was unaware of what she was and all of them knew she could be had if you were willing to pay. One of them decided, his dark eyes focusing on the small ass and rather broad shoulders of the woman as she passed, that he would take her up on her offer.

He turned and followed her, catching up as she turned the corner. He stepped in beside her, matching her rather long stride. "Hi, gorgeous. You busy?"

"Actually, I am. However, if you don't need a *lot* of attention, I'm for you."

He smiled, his face filled with amusement. "I don't need a lot of attention. Those pretty red lips of yours should just about do the trick, baby."

She smiled and turned, taking his arm. "I do *love* a man who speaks his mind. Let's go this way."

She moved down the street, her latest mark on her arm and she led him to a flat that belonged to a friend. No one was there, her friend spending time in another town with a Maquis that she had fallen in love with. She led him to a door, opening it and walking inside. He followed her, watching her silk-clad butt as it swayed back and forth. "You have a nice ass, baby," he said, appreciating what he saw. "Very nice ass indeed."

She chuckled, a low sound that matched her low, husky voice. "I find it adequate, as do my men," she replied, stopping and dropping her coat on a chair. He stood and watched as she released her bustier, her breasts bursting out prettily. They were big and firm, no droop in them and he felt his hands itch to touch them. "Tell me what you want, baby," she said, gripping her breasts and squeezing them seductively.

He moved closer, a grin on his handsome face. "Well, that ass of yours, it begs a closer look."

She smiled and moved to remove her belt. As she did, her blue skirt fell away, revealing blue silk clad legs. She stood, her legs slightly apart, naked from the waist up but for elbow-length blue gloves. He felt himself terribly turned on.

She turned and bent slightly over, showed him her ass, a g-string splitting her cheeks. It was also blue, a nice choice for such creamy skin. "You're a Midran aren't you?"

She smiled and turned, looking at him with a sexy pout. "I am," she/he said, a hand snaking down to an bulging g-string, gripping the package it contained. He felt his own cock reacting to her/his display and he sighed with pleasure.

"What is your pleasure, baby?" she asked, her pink tongue licking her glistening red lips seductively.

He moved closer, taking her waist in his hands. "Well, I want to fuck you but I'll leave it up to you."

"Leave what up to me, baby?" she said, slipping her arms around him, her breasts pressing against his chest. He slipped his hands down to her small ass and squeezed the firm flesh. Pulling her close, he smiled, his dark eyes filled with amusement. "We can fuck first and *then* you can tell me what I want to know or you can tell me what I want to know now and *then* I'll fuck you."

"Tell you what?" she asked, mildly concerned, her body tensing.

"Well, Oola, you can tell me about the Federation spies that are using you to fuck news out of the Maquis or you can fuck me first. *I'm* Maquis, and frankly, baby, I'm sort of put out that you haven't put out for me yet. Let me introduce myself. I'm Nayib of Dorvan V."

She stared at him and then jerked back, his strong arms gripping her tightly. He grinned, squeezing her/his wrist until she/he groaned.

"That's what I thought. Put some clothes on that pretty little ass of yours. There are some people I want you to meet."

Letting her go, he watched as she pulled on her bustier. Then she bent down and gathered her skirt. He watched her taut ass flex as she stood back up and sighed deeply. Sometimes he hated his job. Turning, his hand gripping hers tightly, they both walked out the door together.

=0=

Book Five: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

They stood into port the next morning, followed by two ships that had taken over the towing of Defiant. They stood into their parking orbit and turned over Crazy Horse to the ground control.

Tom stretched and stood up, moving to let a crewman take his place. Behind him, moving into free time, the rest of the Alpha shift stepped. Harry moved to him, waiting for Chakotay.

He had asked them to stay on the ship for a meeting while he took care of the prisoner transfer with Tuvok. The two men joined Tuvok and Chakotay on the lift, stepping off at the Mess Hall deck while the others went on toward the Brig level. Walking to the Mess Hall, they chose their dinner and sat by a window, eating slowly and talking together. Around them in the space surrounding the ship, the business of the Maquis continued. Tom looked at Harry, considering their changed status. "You look odd as a Maquis, Harry," Tom said, sitting back. "I don't think the outlaw life agrees that well with you."

Harry shrugged, smiling slightly. "I don't know. All I need is a scar and a tattoo."

Tom grinned suddenly, filled with mirth at the picture that filled his mind. Harry grinned at him, glad to see it.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile like that in ... since forever."

"Well," Tom said, putting down his fork. "That's the way it goes."

"Have you talked to her?"

"No," Tom said. "She won't even return my emails."

Harry sighed and sat back, looking out the window and the space beyond.

"I don't get it. You two were happy. You were *happy*, Tom."

"I thought so too," Tom said. "You think you know what you're doing and then life sticks it to you in the butt."

"Talk to her," Harry said. "Just keep trying to talk to her."

"I am, Harry, trust me ... I am," Tom said, glancing up startled as Chakotay stepped in, Kira Nerys and Julian Bashir at his side. He signaled the two men and they rose, carrying their dishes to the recycler, joining them after in the hallway.

"Gentlemen, this is Julian Bashir and Kira Nerys. They've agreed to join us. Tom, I want you to take Dr. Bashir to the Sick Bay and introduce him to the EMH and Harry, take Commander Kira on a ship tour. Acquaint her with the ship's apparatus, minus codes of course," Chakotay said, turning and eyeing her coolly.

"You don't trust me, Captain?" Kira asked, her eyes meeting his levelly.

"You haven't proven yourself. Until then consider yourself on probation," Chakotay replied, equally coolly.

"If I displease you in some way?" she persisted.

"I'll shove you out an air lock myself. I hope you know that I'm not joking."

She looked at him and nodded. "Clear as a bell."

He nodded and turned, nodding to his men. "Meet us in the conference room in a half-hour. We have things to discuss."

Tom nodded and they all watched as he turned and strode away, Tuvok by his side. Tom turned to them and grinned wryly.

"That's our Captain, a man of few words and iron will."

"So it would appear. It's good to see you again, Tom," Julian said, extending his hand.

Tom clasped it and smiled. "Good to see you too, considering things."

"You two know each other?" Nerys asked.

Julian smiled. "We were at the Academy at the same time."

"Let's go. You have to meet the doc. You'll find him ... fascinating."

Julian turned and walked down the hall with Tom. Harry turned to Nerys and eyed her for a second. "Are you seriously joining us or is this some kind of bullshit that's going to get you or all of us killed later?"

She looked at him, knowing who he was. Everyone in the Federation forces along the rim knew who was left on the ship. "You're Star Fleet. Why are you still here?"

"I didn't want to go to prison. No one on this ship wants to be home more than me but I won't leave and go to a Federation that treats people like this. I want you to know that if you join us thinking you're going to sabotage something or try and escape, the Maquis will cut your throat."

"And you? Would you cut my throat too?" she asked.

"You never know," he said, his expression implacable. "After all I've been through getting back and now this, with my family this close but farther away somehow than when we were in the Delta, yeah, I just might." He turned and gestured for her to follow. "Let's go."

She turned and followed him, her head filled with thoughts and emotions she hadn't experienced in years.

**********Down below...

Oola sat on a chair, all offended dignity and barely contained fear. She sat in the middle of a room, men and women sitting and standing around her talking softly. The man who had impounded her had been amusing but firm in his intensions. He was good looking and big, something that appealed to her and she had actually been looking forward to doing him. Then he turned out to be a Maquis.

Shit.

A big man with a striking resemblance to the man who had brought her here walked up and sat down on a chair across from her. He leaned forward, putting his big hand on her knee. She tolerated it, waiting to hear his spiel.

"Oola, I want you to listen carefully. I will tell you this only one time. Clear?"

She nodded, holding herself together as best she could.

"We know ... we *know* you've been funneling information to the Fed spies that work out here. We know you get it sleeping with Maquis. Don't even try to argue because frankly, I am prepared to kick the shit out of you myself if you do. Understand?"

She nodded, swallowing in spite of herself.

"Midrans are interesting. We know that you have a certain kind of appeal. I know that you keep regular customers. I also know you sell the Federation what they tell you. Some of our people are dead or locked up because of you."

She stared at him and then behind him, the man who took her came into view. She stared up at him, noting that both wore the same tattoo. They must be related in some way, she thought.

"What we're going to do now is give you a choice. Choose wisely. What you say will determine your fate. Understand?"

She nodded again.

"We have two choices for you. The first one is very simple. Work for us exclusively. Wear a wire and work for us. The second one is also very simple. Don't work for us, double cross us, or blow us off and we'll take you out back right now and kill you."

They sat across from each other for a moment and then she shifted, her face paling. "You gave me a choice and I choose life. I'll work for you exclusively."

Bey sat back, staring at her with his hard dark eyes. "Good. You will be implanted with a device that will let us hear what you say and do. It will let us track you. If you try to run you will be caught before you get off this planet and you will be summarily executed. If you try and remove the device we will know, find you and execute you. If for any reason you give us grief, we will kill you. Are there any questions?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "None."

"Good. You will never be off our radar. You will never be let out of our sight. Nothing you say or do will be hidden from us. If you don't understand this, if you don't get something here, let us know now because if you break the rules a man will appear and cut your throat. And since this is our turf no one will care."

She sat still a moment and then nodded. "I understand and I agree."

"Good. Now go with Nayib and he'll take care of you. Tomorrow, when you've recovered from the surgery, you will be sent home. Just know that there will be someone listening and watching 24/7. We'll inform you of what to tell these men and when."

She nodded and when Nayib stepped forward, stood up on unsteady legs. Turning, holding herself with great dignity, she walked out the door with him. Bey rose and turned, nodding. Two men left, ostensibly to follow the spies. They had been under surveillance for two months and would continue to be so until they were no longer a danger. They would turn the tables on them, dredging what they could from them while sending false data out. They would do that through the treacherous vessel, Oola.

Bey watched them go and then turned and walked on, heading for the Crazy Horse and a meeting with Chakotay. Soon Nayib would join them and they would plan the recon mission that would take them finally to Earth. Without a backward glance, Bey walked to the transporter room beyond.

**********Conference Room...

Chakotay sat and listened to what they knew and what they had prepared. There was a network of people in the Federation, both in and out of Star Fleet. They would be put into play on the actual mission against the prison. They would take the freed prisoners and get them to media people, insuring that the news would get out.

"We have gotten together all the records and identity chips that you'll need," Bey said, handing a small box to Chakotay. He pulled out identity cards, passport folders and other necessary things. They would be a traveling group on a private tour making the rounds of the southwest part of ancient America. They would be a mixed bag of aliens, people looking at the historical home world of humanity.

"You're the guide, Harry. Tom, you're a Trill named Telor. Chakotay, you're a Bajoran named Ludan. Tuvok is a human who is with the tour and it will be up to all of you to do the scanning on the ground. Seven is staying with the Flyer." Chakotay nodded. "The Flyer, they have her specs."

"She's being modified to match a ship that operates near the rim. Her markings and registration will be so similar that she'll past muster. We've got friends who run a sightseeing service and they're prepared to lie and say that the registration of the Flyer was stolen if anything goes wrong. However, they're going to vouch for it until something happens so you'll pass the security checks that will get you to Earth."

Chakotay nodded, staring at his identity cards. They were minus pictures. Those would come after they were altered.

"Your surgery won't be hard. The EMH can handle that. Julian Bashir will put the spots on Tom. He's very familiar with Trills."

Tom nodded, considering how it would look to be a brunet with spots disappearing down the crack of his ass. He grinned and sat back, shooting Chakotay a bemused smile. Chakotay smiled back and put his identity cards down. "When do we leave?" he asked.

"Shortly. As soon as your transformation is made. We'll keep them busy here. You just get us what we need to know to get the show on the road. We've co-opted a prostitute here, a Midran named Oola. We're going to start using her for intelligence and send out misleading information as well. It appears that she was fucking Federals for info as well as Maquis and making a tidy profit from both ends."

Tom glanced up at the sound of her name, remembering a tall redhead with unusually limber body parts. He relaxed and considered how close he had come to being dead. Story of his life, he thought.

They talked for about three hours and then they rose, Tom and Chakotay following Tuvok to the lift. Riding to Sick Bay, Tom was quiet, listening to the two men converse. They stepped off, walking down the corridor to the Sick Bay. Entering, Tom noted the EMH and Julian Bashir gathered around a terminal. The doc turned, a grin on his face. "Gentlemen, good to see you. You've met my colleague, Dr. Bashir, I believe?"

They nodded, Tom smiling. "Julian's going to paint my spots on, Doc. I'm particularly looking forward to the ones that disappear into the crack of my butt."

"You aren't the only one," Chakotay said, grinning wryly at the object of his affections.

Tom looked at him and grinned. "Well, maybe when we're done you can inspect the workmanship."

Chakotay grinned and moved to follow the doc. He glanced over his shoulder before he disappeared behind a screen. "Count on it," was all he said.

"Well, now... Tom. Come with me please."

Tom turned and followed Julian, moving behind another screen. He turned and waited as Julian ran a scan. "You're fit as a fiddle. Take off all your clothes," he said, turning and picking up the first of seven hypo-sprays.

"Sure," Tom said, grinning as he began to remove his vest. "That's the best offer I've had all day."

Julian blinked and then grinned. "You never change, Paris."

Tom looked at him seriously for a moment and then sighed. "You have no idea, Julian, no idea at all."

**********Seven hours later...

Tom stepped out of the shower, pausing before his full-length mirror. He glistened with water, droplets from the shower. His now longish black hair was plastered to his head. A delicate line of spots, a weave of such beauty that the sight mesmerized him began at the top of his head, ran down both sides of his face and met at the back of his neck.

Spots ran from his neck to his arms, over the top to his wrist. A line of spots, dark marks on his pale skin, ran down his back along the vertebras, moving to his waist where the line divided. The line continued, moving along his hips, detouring the round globes of his ass and down the sides of his legs to his feet. They ended at his ankle, the delicate wisp of black tapering off.

It held his gaze and for a moment he just stared. Then he turned and picked up a towel. He dried himself and walked to his bed, climbing in and relaxing. Tomorrow he had to be on his game and so he willed himself to sleep. Finally, much later, he succeeded.

**********First Officer's cabin...

Tabor watched him as he did his business. His nose ridges were incredible, the most stunning thing he had seen in a while. Chakotay looked hot, incredibly sexy and all Tabor wanted to do was stroke the ridges of his nose. "You look incredible," Tabor said as Chakotay climbed in bed with him.

"I pass?" Chakotay asked, pulling him into his chest.

"More than pass," Tabor said, moving closer into Chakotay. "If you ever get tired of being human, let me know. I'll take you as a Bajoran any day."

Chakotay smiled. "Thanks, babe."

Tabor smiled and sighed contentedly. "I'm going to hate seeing you go."

"We'll all be back. It won't be forever."

"See that it isn't, Chakotay. You mean a lot to me."

Chakotay kissed him and pulled Tabor closer. "You have no idea what you mean to me, Tabor. No idea at all."

**********On the planet below...

She stood on the corner, waiting for them to come by. They always picked her up and she would go with them to a secluded place to 'talk'. It usually meant five minutes of conversation, new instructions, payment, and then two hours of sex with whoever came. Usually it was one man but sometimes it was two. She hoped it was one tonight. This game was no longer fun and she knew she was being watched. Sighing, she noted the familiar car coming. It stopped and a familiar head popped out. "Hi, baby. Hop in."

She moved and climbed in, noting with satisfaction that only one man was here tonight. She rehearsed what the Maquis had told her to tell this man and turned to him, her red lips glistening and her eyes sultry with feigned arousal. "Good to see you, honey."

The man slid his hand into her bustier and squeezed. "Good to see you too."

He leaned in and kissed her and she pretended to be turned on. Tonight, she would earn her Federation stipend, banging this geek and lying to him. She would worm out what she could, trying harder than ever before in her life. She knew that her life precisely was what was at stake. Nearby, following them with a recorder, two Maquis agents settled in for the fun. Before she was done, there would be two hours of sexual noise and two bits of information that would help the Maquis. It would be all in the first day of a lot of days to come.

=0=


	6. Chapter 6

Book Six: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Later that night...

He stood outside her door, tapping on it as he gathered himself to accept anything that might come. He was dressed in civilian clothes, something casual and comfortable and it fit him well, showcasing his Trill exoticness beautifully. He pressed the chime, waiting. He knew she was there. He had asked the computer first but no matter how long he stood here like this, she wouldn't open the door. He waited and then stopped, turning away. It was no use tonight. She wasn't going to let him in. She had taken the news that she was staying behind badly, storming to Chakotay's office and raging at him. He stared at her and dismissed her arguments. "You and Tom, you're at odds. I can't have personal things intrude. Too much is at stake."

"*He* got to you didn't he. He told you to leave me behind."

"No," he said, his voice cold. "*You* told me too, with your behavior."

She stared at him and then turned, storming out. Chakotay sighed and tossed the padd on his desk, rubbing his tired eyes. He touched his nose, noting the strangeness of real skin piled up into ridges. He turned and walked to his bathroom, looking into the mirror. It was the same face but different that looked back at him. He was exotic and familiar at the same time. It was disconcerting but he smiled. He remembered the bemused morning routine he had shared with Tabor.

"You look so good. I've seen people impersonate us before but they somehow didn't look that real. You look good, Chakotay," he had said, watching him in the bathroom.

Chakotay had leaned over and kissed him softly. "You'll have to give me pointers," he said, drying his face. "Little things, like what to do when your fly is open in public and does a Bajoran with pretensions to be a Vedek scratch himself when he itches in a ... shall we say tender place?"

The comment brought out the smile that Chakotay had grown to love, a wry crinkled-nosed warm grin that made him feel good. He turned and dried off his face, walking out with his shirt in his hand. Tabor followed, watching him put on the garment. He had his hands behind his back, standing bemusedly. Chakotay turned, handsome and clean cut. Tabor moved his hands and held up a shining object. Chakotay looked at it and then Tabor. With a rueful smile, he took the object and looked at it.

"It's my family's," Tabor said, suddenly shy. "Look."

He pointed out the different markings, explaining them to Chakotay. Taking it from Chakotay's hand, he looked at him with shining eyes. "You want help with this?"

Chakotay smiled and nodded, standing patiently as Tabor affixed the elaborate silver earring on his ear. He stepped back and eyed it, a smile of satisfaction forming on his face. "You look really good, Chakotay. It suits you. Some people, they can't carry it off but on you it looks really, really good."

Chakotay smiled and pulled the younger man into his arms, holding him tightly for a long time. They stood together, embracing and then Chakotay let him go, stepping back and turning. "So, do I pass inspection?"

Tabor smiled. "More than pass, Chakotay. You look wonderful."

He had felt relief that his appearance would past muster and now, as he walked to the transporter, earring jingling softly as he stepped, he found himself growing more comfortable with it. They would fit into the background noise of the people in New Mexico better than he thought they would. Tom in articular looked spectacular. Musing on where his spots ended, Chakotay beamed down to the planet below to talk with Bey on particulars.

**********Exiting a lift to the Mess Hall...

Tom nearly collided with Nayib, the older man waiting for the lift to open. In fact, Nayib grabbed him around the waist, steadying himself as Tom stepped back.

"Whoa," Nayib said, grinning broadly. "You look like a major babe. Where are you going?"

"I *was* heading for the Mess Hall," Tom said. He grinned broadly as Nayib held him loosely in his arms. "So... what's on your mind? There *is* something on your mind?"

Nayib chuckled and let him go, stepping back. "I was thinking dining and dancing, perhaps a make out session in some dark corner."

"I thought that Chakotay had the inside track there."

"Chakotay who?" Nayib said, snickering. "Come on. Don't be a *grind*, Tom. You're leaving soon and frankly I want to dance with someone my own size." He leered, crossing his arms as he waited for an answer.

Tom grinned and nodded, turning and walking with the big man to the transporter room. In minutes they were planetside, heading for a restaurant that had a live band. Moving to a table, they sat and ordered, looking around them as they waited for their beer. "You look really good, Tom. I mean, *really* good."

"Thanks," Tom said, smiling as Nayib leaned forward. "It feels strange."

"Tell me, where do your spots end? Do they really disappear in the crack of your ass or is that an impossible dream of mine, that evolution could be so magnificent?"

Tom snorted and grinned broadly. "You're totally full of shit. I love that about you."

"Yeah, well, if it weren't for Chakotay I would make a real play for you. I'm so lonely," he said, resting his head on his arm, feigning sad and pathetic notes of deprivation. "I'm like *so* lonely, Tom. Do you get the subtext of what I'm saying here?" He peeked up, batting his eyes sweetly.

Tom smiled and leaned forward, a sultry look on his face. "*You* want to get laid."

"Bingo," Nayib said, sitting back with a smug smile on his face.

"You would be so undressed and so flat on your back if this were a perfect world."

"Nayib-0-vision," Tom ventured, grinning and taking his beer from the waiter.

Nayib took his and turned to Tom, regarding him bemusedly. "What?"

"The world according to Nayib," Tom said, leaning back against his chair, contented and relaxing with the friendly but pointed banter.

"Ah, what a world *that* would be," Nayib said, mulling over the possibilities." He took a sip and his expression became serious. "Chakotay is very tense, Tom. I hope you look after him. He'll get the job done, of that I've no fear. I just worry about him being that close to our father and not being able to get him out. That bothers me a lot."

"I'll watch him," Tom promised, noting the swift changing emotions on Nayib's face. "I promise."

"Good," Nayib said, smiling. "Dance?"

Tom looked at the band and the lightly populated dance floor. Nodding, he rose and walked with Nayib to the center. Slipping his arms around Nayib's broad shoulders, he leaned in, relaxing into the older man's loose embrace. "You dance well," Tom said, moving slowly with the big man.

"Lots of practice," Nayib said, reminiscing. "Maris liked to dance. He was quite a good dancer actually. I learned a lot. *Basically*, I learned to stay off his feet and dance with someone as tall as me. Having short people in my arms, well, I'm not known as 'Mr. Grace' in the family."

"Chakotay is a good dancer. He likes to dance but we didn't get much chance to do that in the Delta."

"I can imagine. Not much chance in the Maquis either. Always something 'do or die' to do. I hate living on the edge of dying. The doing is where all the potential for fun is. Did I ever tell you about infiltrating a Star Fleet conference in New York City once?"

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "No. I missed that one."

"Ah, my great moment that will live in near infamy. Let me tell you," he said, pulling Tom closer. "Let me tell you up close and personal. I hope you don't mind. It's just that I've been *so* lonely lately."

"I don't mind," Tom said, chuckling. He relaxed more, leaning closer to Nayib. "You feel good too."

Nayib smiled and sighed. "There was this banquet of Star Fleet officers that followed a conference on basically 'how to off a Maquis traitor' and I crashed it. I was in New York getting information on a new ship ... it was Voyager actually. The new Intrepid class that they were debuting," Nayib said, suddenly grinning. "How's that for kismet? This moment, this romantic moment of you and me having vertical sex under the guise of dancing was preordained."

"The fine hand of God?" Tom asked, warming to Nayib's bullshit.

"Divine intervention if you ask me," Nayib replied, rubbing his cheek against Tom's. "Anyway, I went to this very outre

party, dressed to the nines and spent the evening chasing officer's wives. I wanted to get laid too, Maris not being with me and me being the dog I was, I was scoping out the wives and husbands of everyone around."

"Good tactics," Tom agreed, sighing. "Did you? Get laid I mean?"

"Yeah," Nayib said, grinning broadly. "An admiral came with his husband, a younger man than he was and he was as bored as you can get. I struck up a conversation and went to the roof with him - we were in a convention hall. He gave me a great blowjob if I remember right. He also told me a little bit about his husband's military base. I thought I got a pretty good deal that night for the ordeal of dressing up."

"A twofer?" Tom asked, smiling broadly.

Nayib laughed, smiling. "Twofer. You bet. Scored on all the fronts that count."

"What was the best sex you ever had?" Tom asked, leaning closer.

"You mean without counting you into the vastness of my conquests?" Nayib asked, his eyes half-closed in only partly faux sexual desire.

"How do you know I'd be any good in the sack?" Tom asked, swaying with the older man.

"You're beautiful. You're funny. You look like a sport. I think you're smart and interesting. I don't think you'd snore and frankly, I think if I were fucking you, you would call out *my* name and not say, Chakotay's or some other lesser being."

Tom laughed aloud, his head thrown back, the long line of Trill markings set off darkly against his pale skin. Nayib leaned in and kissed it softly, sighing and shaking his head. "Chakotay is my brother but I hate him right now. You do realize that you're causing great discord among siblings?" He stared at Tom, noting his big grin, and sighed. "A man can try... As for *men* and sex and scoring, I think Maris was the most fun. The sexiest person I ever fucked was a girl in high school. She was my first sexual experience. She had the biggest hooters you ever did see. I *had* to touch them. When I did, I remember thinking, 'nice' but what would a boy's butt feel like?"

Tom grinned. "You preferred boys from when? High school?"

"Probably from the time I was born. I didn't really quantify my feelings or any of that kind of shit. Life was too full of sports and making out. After her, after basically feeling less than fulfilled I decided to chase men and get it over with. The first time I fucked someone in the butt I thought I would go out and invade a country or something, it was *that* empowering." He grinned. "Do you like my lingo?"

"I noted that. It sounds all warm and fuzzy and fully actualized," Tom said, grinning broadly.

"It's one of my covers. I dated a shrink in college. I had to help him study so I have all this great lingo in my head. I use it to get around when I go to a place close to the rim. Most people think I'm a traveling inspirational speaker."

"You're *really* doing wonders for me. I felt like shit earlier and now I actually think I might make it to breakfast."

Nayib smiled. "You looked pretty rough at the lift. I figured I had better take you out and give you some *therapy*." He waggled his eyebrows, his dimples flashing on his handsome face.

Tom laughed and hugged him. "So, this is therapy is it?"

"You're laughing," Nayib said, smiling. "That's a change in attitude from two hours ago. Actually, I once posed as a sex therapist once and got to first base with the secretary of a military attache who had plans for a forward base that was menacing one of our arms routes. I have little shame in pursuit of a goal and a joy for deceiving that made me the natural choice for the job."

"You have a problem with authority do you?"

"Born with it," Nayib said, swaying to the music with Tom.

"No wonder I like you. I do too. My old man was like Zeus. He was this lawgiver that came down from the mountains and what he said was delivered with thunderbolts. I was expected to do his bidding because he said so."

"No choice in your life?" Nayib asked, pausing as the band ended one song and set up for another. They began to sway once more. As they did, a man stepped up and tapped Nayib's shoulder. He turned to face a humanoid alien of indeterminate origin. He smiled. "Sorry. We're on our honeymoon."

The alien blinked and nodded, turning and walking away.

Tom grinned. "You lie with alacrity."

"You have a lovely vocabulary. I think I need a dictionary," Nayib said, nuzzling Tom's neck.

"What would Chakotay say?" Tom asked, sighing at the soft loving touch.

"About what?" Nayib said, nibbling on Tom's ear.

Tom sighed. "About you sucking on me."

"We're married. Let him get his own Trill," Nayib said, sighing as he gazed into Tom's eyes. "My brother is not the most verbal of men you may have noticed nor is he the most 'go and tell it' kind of guy. He's sincere and when he makes up his mind he's hell to live with. He's sort of the ... how shall I say this? ... Everest of individuals ... the sort of man that once a stand is taken becomes the immovable object."

"He's tough," Tom agreed. "Tough and smart and decent.

He's so decent, Nayib. He's sort of someone that makes you better because you know him. I used to envy him his equilibrium."

"Equilibrium? That's new," Nayib said, swaying in another direction, pulling Tom along. "He was so impatient as a boy. He wanted things yesterday and he wanted to be in the middle of the modern world. It drove my folks crazy. I remember watching him and thinking if he could just bend a little. If he could be more like *me*, for instance." Nayib grinned hugely, noting Tom's bemused smile.

"You? You, the blend between old and new, the renaissance man of this and any time..." Tom teased, watching as Nayib laughed.

"That's me. 'Renny'. I did find a halfway place between modern and ancient. Our past grounds us and makes the present and future possible. Chakotay had to find that out the hard way."

"He meditates, he thinks of what's good and old," Tom said, musing on the enigma that loved him. "He's strong and decent, a warrior in so many ways..."

"That's true. He's a fighter like we all are but we all do it in different ways. Bey's the thinker, the planner and the surprising man. Me, I'm a stalker, a man for the sly approach. Chakotay always said, 'hit me', precipitating an ice run afterwards. I think that's why he likes to box. He's a tough man who was a tough kid. I love him and I like him."

Tom looked at Nayib, considering him. "You cultivate a light weight image."

Nayib grinned and shrugged. "It gets me inside, where the battle is. If anyone really thought I was anyone else, doors would close and we'd lose the war. Being glib and lighthearted is a good shtick for what I have to do, Tom. And besides it's all about image, about fooling the other guy. When it's all over, then we can all be who we are."

Tom stared at him a moment and then leaned in, kissing Nayib softly on the lips.

"You're just like your brother. Interesting and deep."

Nayib chuckled. "Deep, that's me."

Tom grinned and embraced Nayib, holding him close as they danced together. Dinner would follow and more talk, the older man making it possible for Tom to relax and be happy for an hour or two. It had been a long, long time since he had felt happy and he put his life to one side, basking in the idiosyncratic friendship of the brother of the man who was becoming as important to him as anyone he had ever known.

**********Two hours later...

Neelix left his friend's cabin, walking down the corridor to the lift. As he rounded the corner, he paused, stepping back. The deserted corridor wasn't deserted, he noted, and at a doorway he watched as a dark-haired man talked very closely to Tom Paris. Tom, transformed as a Trill, was a sight to behold and he was standing close to the dark-haired man, talking to him intimately. Neelix knew who it was, initially mistaking him for Chakotay. The brothers of his Captain were fascinating men, taller and bigger, as handsome and charismatic as his commander was. This one was Nayib, the one he had seen Tom with in the Mess Hall that night. He watched as they talked and then Tom leaned forward, kissing Nayib lightly on the lips. The older man stilled him and leaned in, kissing him longer and then with a grin and a wave of his hand, turned and walked to the lift. He entered and the door closed, breaking Tom's attention and Paris turned, walking inside himself.

They were both gone and Neelix was disconcerted once more. This was the second time he had seen the two together, displaying more intimate connection than he thought a married man should with another person, especially as charismatic and outgoing a person as Nayib.

He knew Tom and B'Elanna were having hard times but he didn't understand what he kept seeing. Turning, he hurried to the lift, intent on overtaking the older man but when he got to the transporter room, Nayib was gone. Neelix stood a moment and stared at the platform and then discouraged, he turned and walked back to the lift and returned to his rooms for bed.

=0=

Book Six: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

Crazy Horse, 0700...

They gathered in the hangar deck the next morning, dressed in civilian clothes, their belongings carefully packed. Harry stood with Bey, talking with him as the others stowed their gear. Nearby, watching as they gathered, Miles O'Brien stood. He had been given an opportunity to work under supervision and earn a place in the Maquis. Given a choice between a prison camp and doing something else, he had chosen this. Kira and Bashir had been given the same choice and they had taken it.

He had hoped to talk to Julian but they weren't allowing contact yet. They hadn't proven their loyalty yet. They had assigned him to working on shuttles, the little ships requiring repair on a level he wasn't used to. These shuttles the ones on Voyager ... He paused, catching himself. The shuttles here on *Crazy Horse* needed a lot of repair.

Julian was working in the Sickbay, helping with all of the myriad duties of a medical officer. The others, the crewmen of the Defiant and the survivors of the Hanley were no where to be seen. He hoped that they hadn't disappeared into a security detention area to wait for years until this bitch was resolved.

He sighed and turned, watching. The Flyer had been changed, looking more like a commercial ship than a prototype military shuttle. The markings would identify it with Proctor's Tours, a wellknown firm, and the registration would pass muster, hethought. All in all, a good camouflage job.

The crew getting ready to leave mystified him, consisting of a Trill, a Bajoran, two humans, until he stepped closer and recognized people. Tom Paris, he knew. Who didn't? The man was a scion of a prominent Star Fleet family and someone who had become infamous in his own right. He made a beautiful Trill, Miles thought, his eyes moving along to the next man. He was tall and well built, an Asian by his features and obviously the 'tour guide'. Another humanoid stood by him, talking to him with a calm that could only be Vulcan, he thought. Though he looked human, he had an inhuman sense of stillness that could only mean Vulcan. He moved to see better who it was and considered that it could only be Tuvok. He was the only black Vulcan Miles had ever seen and now he was here, getting ready to go who the hell knew where. It couldn't bode well for the Federation, he thought.

Beside him, turning to face O'Brien's direction, a tall Bajoran stood. It was clear who he was, the handsome man one of the most wanted criminals in the quadrant. He was Chakotay. "Where are you going and what are you going to do?" he whispered to himself, watching as the men turned and embraced several who weren't going. They boarded and everyone stepped back, watching as the barrier came up. For a moment there was no activity and then the Flyer rose up. The hatch doors, moving slowly the whole time, permitted them to go and they flew out into open space.

The men who stayed watched them go and then reluctantly turned and walked out of the room. Miles watched them for a while and then turned, the task at hand calling him back. As he worked he wondered and made up his mind to find Kira and Julian as soon as possible.

**********Sickbay...

Julian worked at the cultures that the doc had assigned. It was interesting working with a sentient hologram. It had been an experience listening to him explain how he had come to be, exceeding his programming and becoming mobile, independent of the projection devices that made him possible. He listened and worked, noting the surroundings that would likely be home for some time.

"I have to say, Dr. Bashir, that you're a marked improvement over Mr. Paris, although I *will* say on his behalf, that he has become a very competent medic. Of course," the doc said, his smile tight with pride, "he *did* have an excellent instructor."

Julian smiled. "I've known Tom Paris reasonably well for a long time. I'm not surprised by anything you tell me. It's a miracle that you returned."

The doc nodded, considering his companion's words. "It's a combination of luck, tenacity and skill, Doctor. I assure you, divine intervention was only a small part of the equation."

"What do you want, Doctor? What are you hoping for now? I mean, after the war is over?"

The doc looked at him, considering his words. "I wonder, Doctor, if it will *ever* get over. It's been one long struggle and fight to get here and now we find that we've been lied to. It's not what *I* had expected to come back to."

"The Federation ... we've had a long struggle. It took a lot of effort to defeat the Cardassians and the Dominion. We have to secure our borders and rebuild our lives. The Maquis are working against finality."

"Whose fault is that?" Doc asked archly. "I *do* seem to recall that the Federation cut the people out here loose, telling them to leave their home worlds and come back to a place that didn't, in my opinion, value them very much to start with. Could you leave your home world? Could you leave everything that was important to you behind for marauders to destroy? If this was Earth we were talking about, or Vulcan, then it would be as Mr. Paris so fondly calls it, 'a no-brainer'."

Julian watched as the doc turned, moving to do his work in the lab. He stood thinking over what he had been told. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to his own job analyzing the data that poured from the computer onto his screen.

**********In a hotel on the planet's surface...

Oola sighed, watching the bubbles in her/his bath and thought about the past few days. She had been picked up by the Federation spies, going to the usual place afterwards for sex and conversation, usually in that order. In the past it had amused her that the two sides were played off so completely against the other. She could use them and make money and they didn't know a thing.

Or at least it *seemed* they didn't.

The big man that had come for him, Nayib, she had found out was a very highly placed Maquis with a lot of pizzazz. Her initial attraction, a rare event for her most of the time, had been real. It burned her deeply to be attracted to someone who was equally interested in playing him relaxed and slipped into her male brain, going over her situation without the attachments and distractions being in her female brain brought to her. She became the male, her internal self-identification changing even to her mental pronouns and she reached down, stroking herself as she mentally morphed.

/...Well, the Maquis want to play you, Oola. You really stepped into it now .../

He sat up and reached for his glass, considering the situation with all its thorny details. Lying back in the tub, he idly stroked a nipple on his full round breast as he considered his odds in running away.

The implant had been placed, clamped around the vertebrae of his spine, and it would take a master surgeon to remove it. He remembered coming to, the handsome big man staring down at him.

"Wake up, sunshine. Welcome to Maquis Intelligence," he had said, his voice faintly mocking.

He had stared at the big man, noting his tattoo and decided at that moment that living was the better part of valor. After a day of rest, the soreness in his back receded and he accepted what he couldn't change with as much grace as he could muster. It was disconcerting that no matter where he went, they would know what he was doing, with whom he was with and where they existed to within millimeters of their actual location. They would hear him speak, no matter what he said and they would be an audience for his sessions with clients. He would have to be very, very, *very* careful. He believed the other one, the one called Bey, that they would kill him if he didn't.

Tonight, he was going out on the town, meeting the Federation spies once more. He hoped it would only be one man again. The idea of being with two or three had lost its gloss. The fun of controlling that many men, men who thought they were using *him* was no longer there for him. It had become drudgework. *Well paid* drudge work but a grind none the less.

He sighed and shifted to his female mind, assuming his alter ego easily. She sat up, stepping out of the tub. Drying herself with immense care, she walked to the bedroom and paused before the mirror. A smile crossed her face as she stared at herself, noting her perfect body, perfect in the Midran sense.

It was the body that drove men here insane. She even had female clients. She eyed her body, noting its perfect Midran curves and long, long legs. Her breasts were big and full, firm without sag and her nipples pink. Her waist was small and her ass boyish, as it was with all her kind. Her long hair fell from the towel when she pulled it off, billowing around her waist.

It all worked just fine, even the alien red color of her hair. Men liked her a lot and women watched her, fascinated at the idea of a male and female occupying the same space. She grinned, looking down at the point in her groin where a long cock hung. It was the thing that stunned men, making them come back for more, even the ones that liked women. Even on that score she could service them just fine, her female attributes of that region just as cleverly placed. Men, women, it didn't matter. What mattered was their money and her well being. If she had to trade one off to keep the other, so be it. The Maquis no longer paid but they also didn't kill her. She intended to make it last. Turning, she pulled on red silk, intending to look her best. By the time she made it to the pick up place, she would look like a supernova. The three men in the car that were waiting for her would make it worth her while.

She would have more information, a new contact within the Federation and the idea of delivering a major Maquis leader into their hands firmly in their minds. That she had to fuck all three of them was incidental. The money was good and the Maquis were satisfied. What more could she do? She smiled at her reflection, the perfection of her look coming together nicely. Fastening the buttons of her jacket, her creamy cleavage bulging prettily out of the top of its open collar she paused, noting everything carefully. She would finish her dressing, put on her makeup and the red, red lipstick that Federation spies seemed to prefer and then she would be on her way. Another night, another day of work. It was all the same to her.

**********On a balcony...

They sat together, sipping beer, sitting in chairs with their feet propped up on the railing in front of them.

Bey sighed, glancing at Nayib. "I hate this."

"I know," Nayib said, nodding. "*I* don't exactly like it either but it's the best way, Bey. We can make it happen."

"Chakotay is very leery," Bey said.

"He is but he's not the boss. You are," Nubby said, setting his beer down. He entwined his fingers behind his head, staring at the stars above. "Beautiful night."

"Yeah," Bey said, looking up. "I wonder how Mama is tonight."

"She's fine. They wouldn't *dare* do anything to her."

"Maybe," Bey said, noncommittally. "I hope they get back soon. I would like something in place to get Mama out when we retrieve Papa."

"We'll work it out. The underground on Dorvan V can snatch her. The moment the camp blows on Earth they will go to get her."

"I know," Bey said, sighing. "I'll get her out."

"I know you will," Nayib said, his voice filled with conviction.

"Chakotay really likes that Paris kid."

"Chakotay loves him, Bey," Nayib said, glancing over at his older brother. "He's in love with him."

"He's in a relationship already isn't he?" Bey asked, remembering a very handsome Bajoran man in his brother's cabin.

"Fill me in. I'm behind here."

"You're always behind, brother," Nayib teased gently.

"You don't have any fun. You need someone to be with when you aren't saving the frontier from the bad guys."

"Later, when it matters," Bey said, considering the shooting stars that just hit their atmosphere. "Nice stars."

"Yeah," Nayib said, noting their brilliant streaks.

"Chakotay has been in love with Paris for years. He has since Paris first came to the Maquis. At first it was lust. Like me."

"You?" Bey asked, suddenly grinning.

"Sure. I thought Paris was edible the first time I saw him. Remember? He was ragged and shaggy haired. The sort of vulnerable that makes you want to rent a superman suit and do battle with things."

"Ah, you like the winsome type," Bey said, formulating a picture of his brother in tights.

"Actually then, all you needed was a pretty face and a nice ass. Paris met both qualifications."

Bey snorted and smiled. "He does still."

"Mature beauty, Bey," Nayib agreed. "So when it was clear that Chakotay wanted him, like the noble creature that I am, I put my own aching heart aside and let him have first refusal."

"Aching *cock* you mean," Bey said, glancing wryly at his brother.

Nayib snorted and nodded. "Truly. I had such a hard on for Paris. I took him dancing last night, dancing and dinner. I got a couple of kisses and the chance to chew on the spots on his neck. Prime stuff if I say so myself."

"He's *Chakotay's* wet dream," Bey said, frowning slightly at his brother.

"He is," Nayib agreed, a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. "However, it doesn't mean I can't lick him now and then."

Bey snorted and laughed. "You're so disgusting. You really need to find a full time lover. I worry about you, Nayib. You might get terminal blue balls over this."

"Yeah, well, Maris dumped *me*, the prick. I *am* rather fond of Chakotay's Bajoran."

Bey considered Nayib for a moment. "You really need to see a therapist. You're coveting thy brother's goods."

"I'm *coveting* his sex life. I tell you, Bey, I'm so horny I could explode."

"Take Tabor out to dinner. Take him dancing. Nibble on *his* spots," Bey said, smiling with amusement at Nayib's slightly frowning face.

"He's still doing Chakotay. It's not a good idea to do your brother's lover when he's off risking life and limb for The Cause."

Bey smiled. "Consider it a patriotic gesture, something designed to boost morale at home."

Nayib glanced at Bey. "I like the way you think. I'll consider it. By the way, what did you think of Oola?"

"Nice tits."

Nayib laughed out loud, thrilled by Bey's uncharacteristic language. He looked at his brother, smiling broadly. "Get a girl friend."

"Get a boy friend."

"After the war," they both said together.

Grinning, Bey relaxed, watching the stars. Some place far away his little brother led a group to try and find out how to save their father. Here with Nayib, he sat hoping and waiting. For now, it was all they could do.

**********At a street corner nearby...

"Hop in, beautiful."

The tall red head smiled, gathering her full skirts. she entered and sat, men adjusting themselves to her inclusion on both sides of her. One of them put their arm around her as another rested his hand on her leg. "What have you got to tell us tonight, gorgeous?" one of them said, leaning in and nuzzling her neck.

She grinned, feigning pleasure. "Do any of you know a man by the name of Nayib?" she asked, her voice deliberately light.

They all paused, glancing at each other before relaxing again. One of them, the main control of this cell, leaned closer, sliding a hand into her jacket. He squeezed the firm flesh, grinning.

"Why don't you tell us more?" he purred. "Tell us everything you know."

**********New Mexico...

He walked to the dining hall, moving into line with the others. There were new faces, rumored to be a part of Voyager. He didn't dare hope, that pain something to be avoided when the inevitable crash of disappointment came. Sek joined him and they walked along the line, taking their food to a table sat and began to dine, talking quietly until the guards moved on.

"I have found out something of the new prisoners," the young Vulcan said. "They are indeed part of Voyager's crew. They have come back and your son, Chakotay, has taken the ship over. My father has joined him."

Kolopak sat, transfixed with the news. After a moment, he nodded, sighing deeply. With effort, he picked up the fork from his plate and began to eat slowly. This was incomprehensible, something to be digested over a few hours rather than all at once.

Chakotay was alive. Chakotay. Was. Alive. This was the best news he had heard since capture.

=0=

Book Six: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

The ship slipped through the darkness of space, heading for the Earth. It would take a week and they would live together in the ship, sleeping in shifts and working together that way also. Tom flew, his flight plan taking them along a rough area of asteroids and mines. They had gotten a reasonably clear outline of the area from Oola and were going on Tom's skill. Once they cleared this area then they would be able to join regular flight lanes.

All they had to do was get through the dangerous no-man's zone and then follow the rules. Step in line and not call attention to yourself, that was the basic plan. Chakotay sat behind Tom, noting the weave of delicate markings that met at his neck and disappeared into his collar. His now black hair curled around his neck, accenting just that much more his pale skin.

Seven and Tuvok were sleeping on the bunks, having worked all night bringing the ship's changed systems online. Anyone boarding this vessel wouldn't know that Star Fleet personnel created it. The two bunks available held them soundly, making more room for Harry to sit with Chakotay and Tom. They worked together, quiet and expectant and by the time Tuvok and Seven awoke, they had made it into the main transportation lanes beyond the DMZ, inside Federation-held space.

"We're coming up on Dorvan V, Chakotay," Tom said, his voice quiet. He glanced at the big man who had moved to the window, hunching down as he stared at the planet off their port side. It was faint but definable and Chakotay watched it until it faded away.

Chakotay turned and stood behind him, his hand resting on Tom's shoulder. For a long time they just stood and then he turned, walking to the back of the ship. Tom watched him go, sharing a glance with Harry. The younger man sighed and shrugged in sympathy, the homesickness that he himself felt welling inside.

It was quiet for a moment and then the smell of food and coffee drew their attention.

"Dinner," Chakotay said, moving into the flight deck, trays in hand. He handed one to Harry and then one to Tom, turning and bringing his own out to join them. They sat and ate, making incidental conversation and by the time they were finished, they had passed through five military check stations.

They flew on, the shift passing quietly and then after twelve hours, Seven and Tuvok awoke and joined them. Seven moved, taking the helm as Tom rose stiffly. Moving to the back, he noted the bed that beckoned. Turning, he noted that Harry had the same thought on his mind.

"Well, three people and two beds. Who sleeps double?" he asked, a grin on his face.

"Harry, you take one bunk. Tom and I will take the other."

They turned, noting a grinning Bajoran staring back at him. Chakotay leaned against the doorway, a smug look on his face. "Look, Tom, you told me I could see where your spots went."

Tom grinned at Chakotay, the moment of jaunty conversation in the Sickbay resurfacing. He glanced at Harry who stood silently, a strange look on his face. Tom shrugged and nodded, turning and walking into the small bathroom, beginning hisevening routine.

Harry sat on the bunk across from the bathroom, pulling off his shoes. He tossed one down and noted that Chakotay had moved to do the same thing, taking his earring off carefully.

"He's married you know," Harry said softly, glancing up for a moment to Chakotay.

Chakotay paused and looked at Harry, his expression unreadable. "No one knows that better than me."

Harry nodded and rose, pulling a small bag from the overhead. He stepped past Tom who had showered in the sonic and was carrying sleep pants in his hand. He wore a towel around his waist and stepped clear, dropping it without a trace of self-consciousness.

Chakotay watched, noting the line of delicate black markings that began around his ankle and ran up a long, lean leg. They followed the curve of his hip and met at the base of his spine. A line moved down, disappearing into the crack of his ass as the rest moved up along his backbone. They parted at the base of his neck and moved down the outside of his arms, ending at his wrists. The markings at his neck, clearly seen as Tom turned and whispered a joke to Harry, moved up and along the side of his face, disappearing into the black silky hair that covered Tom's head.

He stared at Tom's ass, the swell of his butt framed by black markings and he swallowed, watching with keen and rising disappointment as Tom stepped into his pants. He pulled them up, tying them at the waist and turned, a smile crossing hisface.

"They end in a good place?" Tom said, noting the soft smile that crossed Chakotay's face.

"You won't get any argument from me," Chakotay said, rising and stepping close to Tom. His eyes closed slightly, the smoldering fire in them stilling Tom in his tracks. Chakotay sighed,

stepping even closer when he heard a throat clear. They both turned and stared at Harry, noting his presence at last.

Chakotay looked at Tom, holding his gaze and then turned and stepped past Harry, disappearing into the bathroom to do his own routine. Harry watched him and turned, noting the flush of Tom's skin.

"B'Elanna. Remember her?" Harry whispered.

Tom looked at him, the quiet look of his face changing. "I haven't forgotten, Harry," he said, sighing. "Of course, I can't say the same for her at the moment."

Tom turned and looked at the bed, pulling back the covers. Turning, he noted that Chakotay had finished, pulling on his own sleep pants after a sonic shower. He walked out and glanced the bed, watching as Tom turned and grinned at him. "Wall or floor side."

Chakotay grinned. "Wall."

Chakotay moved past him, sliding into the bed and turning onto his side, facing the two men standing beside him. "Come on in, Tom. The water's fine," Chakotay said, holding the blanket up.

Tom grinned and sighed, shaking his head. He climbed in, turning on his side and settled, noting that Chakotay moved to spoon behind him. He draped his arm around Tom loosely, settling in behind him for the night. Harry turned, sighing deeply and climbed into his own bunk. "Lights out," he said.

For a moment it was quiet and then Chakotay snickered. "Why do I have the urge to tell ghost stories."

Tom snorted, enjoying the warmth of someone's bare skin against his own.

"Did you ever go to camp?"

"No," Chakotay said. "We *camped* but as a family."

"I'm sorry we couldn't do more about your home world."

Chakotay was silent for a moment. "My mother is there, all alone."

Tom listened to the sadness in Chakotay's voice and laced his fingers through Chakotay's. He squeezed them, feeling Chakotay squeeze them back. Then he felt a soft kiss on his shoulder, whisper soft and tender. He felt it and then another as Chakotay stroked his stomach with his thumb. Turning slowly, he looked over his shoulder, noting Chakotay's soft breath against his cheek.

It was dark, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Chakotay kissed Tom's shoulder, his desire rising as he moved closer. Tom turned his head, soft lips brushing his and Chakotay turned, covering Tom's mouth with his own. They kissed lingeringly and when they broke Tom turned toward the big man facing him.

Chakotay's fingers stroked Tom's cheek, the soft skin warm to his touch. Chakotay moved slightly, leaning over and gathering the tall younger man into his arms. He smiled and rubbed Tom's cheek as over and over they kissed. Then they stopped, listening for Harry across the way.

Harry was lying quietly, his breathing regular and so they turned back to each other. Moving closer, they hands moving, they touched each other in silence. Tom felt his desire pulling him toward abandonment and so he stilled Chakotay's hand. Leaning forward, he whispered into Chakotay's ear. "We better stop before this gets out of hand."

Chakotay swallowed hard, kissing Tom softly. "Later."

Tom swallowed hard too, nodding finally. "Yeah."

They held each other a moment and then Chakotay kissed Tom softly. Tom turned reluctantly, sighing as Chakotay moved to lie behind him snuggly. He could feel Chakotay's cock, hard and flat against his own ass and he felt a huge desire to do something about it but Harry was across the room, less than eight feet away and there was nothing they could do without waking him.

They lay together, Chakotay's hand gently running up and down Tom's arm. He kissed Tom's shoulder and then settled to sleep. It would take a long time for the two of them to get any.

Across the way, Harry lay still. He could hear the soft sounds that emanated from their sleep alcove. He knew what they were doing, kissing and touching together. It bothered him for B'Elanna's sake but he also was disturbed by the turn around of behavior from what he had come to expect.

The Maquis were efficient and deadly, loose in formalities and long on loyalty. Chakotay had been someone he had admired and looked up to. Having him come on to Tom was disconcerting. He knew that Chakotay was in love with Paris, the signs of it clear to him for a long time. However, Tom was married. He was married to one of Harry's closest friends and he was torn.

It wasn't Tom's fault really. He was upset and torn by B'Elanna's change of attitude about the two of them and right now, Harry felt, Tom was vulnerable for someone. That it was Chakotay wasn't as bad as if it was someone else but still it was an escalation of their mess. This could not only destroy any chance Tom and B'Elanna had but also the old and lasting friendship that Chakotay had with her as well.

They were making out, he thought. It was quiet and soft but he could tell. Finally, after a moment, they stilled, settling down together. He was relieved that they stopped, well aware that if he weren't there with them more would probably be happening. Harry sighed and turned onto his side, settling into a position for sleeping. He tried to relax and eventually fell asleep, filled with disquieting thoughts.

**********On the planet...

He waited for her, watching the stars overhead. She was late getting there and he was ready to call on his tails when he heard the clicking of heels on the pavement. Turning, he watched as she came into view, her full skirts swirling around her long legs. She stopped before him, watching him as he watched her. "I told them. They bought it."

Nayib nodded. "Good."

She reached out and handed him a small disk. On it was a number of maps that had been on the data padd that one of the men carried. He had been naked at the time when she dropped her recorder onto the floor next to his clothes. It was hidden in her bustier and as it lay there, it recorded everything he had. She had no idea what was on the padd but she gave it to the big handsome stranger with relief.

He stared at it and smiled. "Thanks."

She moved closer, smiling at him. "Dinner?"

"I wish," Nayib said, smiling broadly. "Rain check?"

She tilted her head, looking at him with her dark alien eyes.

"Sure," she said.

He nodded, pausing, and then turned, walking down the street

until he disappeared into a crowd. She watched him go and then sighed, staring up into the stars. She was a long way from home and as soon as she could she would be off this rock. Until that could happen she would be scrupulous in her conduct with these tough men. In the end, they *had* to tire of her and she would be able to go. When she did, she would try and go home again.

Turning, she walked toward her own apartment nearby.

***********In the morning...

Chakotay sighed and shifted, feeling something warm in his arms. He opened his eyes and saw spots. Black lacy spots filled his line of vision and he smiled, rubbing his face against Tom's shoulder. Tom shifted and awoke, wrapped in a warm body. Chakotay. He knew it was Chakotay and so he turned, moving closer to Chakotay's warm chest. Strong arms entwined him as a strong leg moved to drape itself over Tom's hip. Tom settled, warm and cozy. "You feel good."

Tom smiled. "You do too."

As they lay there a soft snoring sound drew their attention. They glanced across the way, noting Harry rousing himself from sleep. Tom sighed and turned, kissing Chakotay softly.

"Time to get up," he said, reaching up and stroking Chakotay's nose ridges. "You make a good Bajoran."

"You make a beautiful Trill," Chakotay replied, his hand running slowly up and down Tom's arm. "We have to get up."

"Yeah," Tom said, sighing. "Come into the bathroom with me."

Chakotay looked at him and nodded, watching as Tom turned and climbed from the bed. He moved to the bathroom, disappearing from view. Chakotay rose, padding in behind him and the door closed, the two of them standing before each other in the small space.

Chakotay reached out, resting his hands on Tom's chest. He squeezed the flesh, rubbing Tom's soft chest hair with his fingers. Tom's eyes closed, his head falling back and Chakotay moved closer, slipping an arm around Tom's waist. Tom sighed and looked at Chakotay, the heat of his gaze pooling in his groin.

"Chakotay..."

"Shh," Chakotay whispered, leaning down and nuzzling the skin of Tom's neck. He kissed it over and over, the clean taste imprinting on his mind. "Don't say anything."

Tom slid his hands up Chakotay's arms, resting them on his broad shoulders. He lay his forehead on Chakotay's shoulder, stepping closer as Chakotay gathered him into his arms. They rubbed together, arms and chests, groins and legs, the sensations of heat and pleasure increasing with each caress.

"I love you," Chakotay whispered, nibbling on Tom's ear. "I love you, Tom."

Tom sighed. "I wish ... I wish, Chakotay ..."

"I know," Chakotay said, staring into Tom's eyes. "I know."

He leaned in and kissed Tom, the younger man's arms encircling him and they closed out the rest of the world and its cares for just this one moment. Tom groaned, sighing into Chakotay's mouth and then they heard it, a soft rapping sound.

"What?" Chakotay asked, his voice hoarse with emotion and need.

"It's me, Harry. Are you done?"

Chakotay looked at Tom, swallowing hard. "No," he whispered.

Tom swallowed, nodding once. They leaned forward and kissed, a hard kiss of desire and emotion. Chakotay stepped back, rubbing his own belly as he willed his heart to slow down. "Not yet. Give me a minute."

"Right," Harry said, pausing. He didn't hear anything inside but he knew they were both in there. Turning, he walked to the small galley, replicating coffee as he waited for something to happen. A noise drew his attention and he watched as Chakotay stepped out, drying his face on a towel. He moved to his bag, pulling out Bajoran-style clothes and dressed as Tom stepped out himself. They dressed side by side and then they moved up, nodding to Harry. He walked to the bathroom, glancing at the bed the two had shared on the way. He sighed and walked into the small toilet to do his morning routine.

"Breakfast?" Chakotay asked, eyeing the tall Trill that stood beside him.

"Starving," Tom replied, smiling.

"So am I," Chakotay replied, his eyes smoldering with unspoken emotion.

Tom swallowed and licked his lips. "Eggs would be good."

"They would," Chakotay replied, his voice soft. He punched in the codes and turned, watching as Tom took the plate of eggs and toast. He walked to the small table and sat, moving over for the older man as he sat with his cereal and fruit. Harry walked out and joined them, gathering his food. Sitting across from them, they ate companionably.

"Just a few more days and we'll cross the Sol beacons."

Harry nodded. "Just that close to my family. This is going to be very hard."

Chakotay nodded, noting Harry's brave face. "If we can, this will work out and we can eventually come home again."

"I hope so," Harry said, sighing. "I really hope so."

Tom shook his head. "Don't give up, Harry. It can't be forever."

Harry nodded, not believing a word. It felt forever to him and being this close made it worse. Infinitely, undeniably, fundamentally, colossally worse than he could remember. With a sigh, he dug into his food, comforted by the hum of the ship and the banter of his companions.

=0

Book Six: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

Several days later...

They moved through the last checkpoint, moving toward the gravity well of the Sol System. The beacons, automatic and unblinking, read them as a commercial vehicle, recorded their registration and their configuration and directed them to the Interstellar Customs Station on Mars. They flew on impulse power, slipping past Pluto and her large moon, moving onward to the twin planets of Neptune and Uranus. After a slow glide, moving along with other traffic, they passed the ringed glory of Saturn.

Everyone sat on the chairs of the flight deck, watching the familiar and unfamiliar sights pass by. It was an emotional thing, this tableau of planets of their home system and they watched them quietly. Saturn with her many moons flashed past and they moved on toward a large looming colorful ball. Jupiter, her brilliant colors nearly glowing, grew larger and they could see as they passed it, the tiny speckled lights of Jupiter Station. Her big moons with their colonies passed by and they made their way to the semi-barrier of the Van Allen Belt.

Debris and crumbles of a non-planet, unable to form at the time of the birth of this system, led to a zigzag path as theship wove its way through. Tom took her in, moving along the usual route, and then they were clear. The outer planets were past and now the first of the inner loomed before them. Mars, the red planet, home to millions of people and the first planet to be colonized in the Sol System, began to loom before them. She grew in size as they cut to minimal power, following the homing beacon that would take them to the Interstellar Transit Station outside the biggest dome of all.

They watched as Tom skillfully moved the ship, breaking the atmosphere and moving down to the station below. They took their turn, landing gently on the tarmac near the terminal. They waited as the signal to move came and slowly inched into the staging area that would give them access to the dome.

The beacon flashed and they moved forward, following a signal that led them to their berth. Once they set down, the beacon flashed amber, telling them to wait. A force field flashed and the dome formed around them, merging with the bigger dome that covered everything. A green light blinked and Tom shut the ship down, turning and staring at the others.

Chakotay turned and gazed at them, nodding to Tuvok. Rising, they all walked to the back, gathering their identity documents together. Turning, they followed Harry who stepped out as the tour guide of their small group. They stepped to the ground, pausing as they considered being back on soil from their own home system again.

The sun was warm, the sky above them a soft bluish hue. The dome could be seen, the sunlight glinting off of it. They walked to the terminal, taking an escalator to the third floor customs deck. Everywhere they looked they could see plants, both outside and inside. People of all kinds walked around them, moving about their business as they walked across the glossy concourse. Entering a roped off area, they joined a line, moving toward the row of customs officers that would check them out. They handed their documents to the officers, answering simple questions and trading banter. They were entered and given clearance, moving with the crowd to the outside.

Standing on a balcony three stories above the ground, they stood in the warm spring-like morning, looking out at the expanse of land that had been reclaimed for habitation. The center of the city that spread out in all directions was a harbor, fed by a river that threaded in from the wilderness beyond. The city was beautiful, a sparkling array of apartment houses and high rise buildings and it filled the dome nearly completely. Beyond it, outside in the developing terrain, the signs of life could be seen. The atmosphere was nearly halfway to Earth standard and the plants outside were contributing to the start that melting the polar ice caps had begun.

In the far distance, the huge expanse of uplands swelled into the incomprehensible magnificence of Olympus Mons. Mount Olympus, the tallest mountain form in the solar system was so large it created its own weather. Its slopes, formerly barren and rocky were covered with a permanent covering of white snow. Its tip, shrouded in clouds, was so high that it was seldom seen clearly.

Domes, smaller and filled with farms and other habitations ranged over the land as far as they could see, fed by the rivers that had been formed by massive melt down of the ice caps. They were islands of green in an ocean of sand colored rock and dirt. The planet was seventeen percent habitable inside the domes with another fifty-four percent in various stages of transformation. What had once been judged in the twentieth century to take ten thousand years to accomplish had taken only four hundred.

"Beautiful," Harry said, closing his eyes against the warmth of the sun, their sun.

"The air smells different," Tom said, staring at the familiar sights all around them once more.

"That's completely illogical," Tuvok opined, drawing smirks from all around them.

"Perhaps," Chakotay said, turning and looking at him. "It doesn't make it any less true for us."

"We better get going," Harry said, suddenly desirous to see more familiar skies and seas.

They turned and walked to the return gate for the trip further. It was a short walk from the lift to the tarmac below and they entered the ship, moving to their stations. Seven watched them, noting their different emotional states. "I take it that you all have found something to consider about this touchdown?"

Chakotay nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "More desire than ever to recover our people."

"Let's go?" Tom said, glancing back at Chakotay. The older man nodded and Tom contacted the tower. They gave him the go-ahead to join the queue, one ship among many waiting to be given the go ahead. They crept along, waiting their turn. Finally, after ten minutes, they were given the authorization to lift off. Moving the ship forward, Tom began to set the flight codes when the tower called again. "Vessel A-47-D, hold in place."

Tom froze and then moved his hands, holding their place as they waited.

"What do you think they want?" Harry asked, staring at the others as they waited tensely.

It was quiet a moment and then the tower spoke again. "Vessel A-47-D, you are cleared to go."

"Tower, this is Vessel A-47-D. Is there a problem?"

There was a wait and then the tower came on again.

"Negative A-47-D. We're experiencing equipment trouble here. Nothing to worry about. You are cleared to go."

"Affirmative," Tom replied, lifting the ship off the ground.

They moved on, heading for the sky and his place in line for the short trip to Earth. As they waited, they noted other ships, familiarly marked and heading in all directions. Star Fleet military vessels passed them, their white hulls gleaming and they watched, impressed and silent. Finally, with a final acknowledgment from the tower, they flew on toward Earth on minimal impulse.

They watched as Earth appeared, her big moon passing into the darkness as they entered orbit. She was beautiful, blue and cloud enshrouded, everything they had dreamed and worked for all the years of their exile.

"Vessel A-47-D, proceed according to your flight plan."

"Acknowledged," Tom said, jolting out of his reverie by Earth Command.

They flew lower, hitting the thermosphere, the blaze of fire dimming their view. Then they were past it, moving from darkness to the blue sky and soon they passed over the emerald beauty of the Pacific Ocean. Tom flew on, his passengers silently sitting all around him and when they crossed over land, they still didn't speak.

"Port of Los Angeles Control, this is Vessel A-47-D requesting permission to enter flight lane 27B, contingent on clearance to Taos, New Mexico, North American continent."

There was a slight pause and then a man's voice acknowledged them. "Affirmative, A-47-D. You are cleared to enter. Follow the route filed without deviation. I will warn you that there are secured airspaces in New Mexico. Heed the buoy warnings. Failure to do so will result in confiscation of your vessel and civil and military liabilities."

"Affirmative, LA Control."

It took seconds to enter their space and fly through the sky to the desert beauty of New Mexico. A chat with Taos Tower and they were moving on the ground to their berth. He went carefully through their routine, following the rules scrupulously. When he shut down, they turned and looked at each other.

"Remember what we have to do and what we're here for. Everything and anything counts now. One mistake and everyone we came for is lost to us. They'll never let us have another chance again."

Tom nodded, listening to Chakotay's words with emotional detachment. They were here on his home world, the place not far from his father and he had nothing to say about it. Something in him had taken over and he felt himself falling into an emotionless state of mind.

They rose and turned, gathering their gear. Seven watched them, noting their tension. Turning, she picked up a number of small hypos, something she had been working on for some time. "Wait."

They turned and looked at her. She stepped forward. "I want to inject a small device in each one of you. I have to maintain a lock on you and this will help." She held up a hypospray.

"What is it?" Chakotay asked, taking one from her hand.

"I have encoded nanoprobes with DNA from each of you. I took it from your medical profiles. This will help me find you several magnitudes faster than by the devices that you've had sewn into your clothing."

"Very well," Chakotay said, handing it back to her. She pressed it against his neck, the soft hiss signaling successful injection. He turned and moved forward as she finished each of them. Pausing by the door, he looked at her. "We'll be back soon. Keep your head up."

She nodded to him and watched as they turned and walked out of the ship. The door closed and she was alone. For a moment it was terribly disconcerting and then she turned and walked back to the flight deck. Sitting at Tactical, she turned on the main screen, entering her codes. The screen lit up, four signals signifying the four men blinking. She sat back and prepared to monitor them, watching as four biological profiles of their current condition scrolled before her eyes.

**********Later that same day...

They drove along the road, the desert surrounding them changing with the waning of the day. It was beautiful, the red and gold mountains shimmering in the fading light. They were driving toward the town of Rosswell, New Mexico. All around them the federally protected landscape of the desert surrounded them with its spiritual beauty, the timelessly quiet place comforting to Chakotay.

He could remember as a child coming here, making the historical tour of Arizona, New Mexico and southern Colorado. They had hit all the sacred places, Sedonia in particular and he felt comfortable and at home in this place.

Turning down a road, they continued on to their destination, a ranch that catered to people that were staying quietly in the area. They were fifty miles from the bustling city of Rosswell, formerly ground zero of alien abduction and conspiracy theory. They would check into their accommodation, a cabin that they had rented that was a long walk in the desert beyond the main house.

They turned down a long winding road and after ten miles they pulled into an oasis of green surrounding a beautiful and old-fashioned ranch house. Pulling up, Harry stepped out and with Chakotay by his side, walked inside. Minutes later, they came out, keys and other cabin items in hand and they drove farther on, pulling over at the beginning of a long clearly marked trail. They got out, staring at the big black sky. Tom paused and pointed, all eyes turning to Polaris.

"There she is," Tom said, smiling.

"Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. All of them, they're here," Chakotay whispered. "There's the belt of Orion."

Tom squeezed Chakotay's hand, reaching in and handing out gear. When they had their belongings, they walked single file down the trail, following the motion activated ground lights that took them along. It was warm and beautiful, quiet as only the high desert could be and they made good time to the cabin that would be home for the next few days. They walked to it, opening the door and entering. It was old fashioned and comfortable, two bedrooms and a hot tub on the back deck. They put down their gear and walked out, staring at the sky as they sat down on the bench that encircled the deck.

"It's beautiful here," Harry said, staring at the sky.

"It is," Tom said, turning and removing the cover on the hot tub. "This looks good too."

Chakotay grinned and rose. "Let's eat and then soak."

Tom nodded and followed him inside, the others lingering in the darkness. They walked to the kitchen, replicating their dinners, walking toward and sitting at the table. Chakotay leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head.

"You could use a massage," Tom said, feeling behind Chakotay's neck.

"You going to give it?" he asked, his dark eyes smoldering as they stared at him.

"Maybe," Tom said, noncommittally. "I suppose I could be persuaded."

Chakotay smiled and leaned closer, his lips nearly touching Tom's. He licked Tom's lips and smiled, sitting back. "Consider yourself persuaded."

Tom smirked and sat back, looking at Chakotay with bemusement. Before he could answer, the others began to trickle in, replicating and taking food to the table.

"We'll start out at daybreak," Chakotay said, shifting from Tom to the mission with difficulty. "We better eat and get some sleep. As it is, we're directly ten miles overland from the edge of restricted space. It's a long walk we're facing."

They nodded and ate, making incidental conversation. Finally, Harry rose and dumped his dishes, turning and facing Chakotay.

"Who sleeps where?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the big man's face.

"You share with Tuvok. Tom and I will take the big room. There's one bed there and two in the other. Tuvok might appreciate that."

Tuvok glanced at Chakotay and nodded. "I would, thank you." Tuvok rose and walked to the recycler, dumping his dishes. He turned and nodded."Good night." They nodded back and Tuvok left, leaving the three men alone.

Harry looked at the two of them, sitting and staring at the empty doorway that had taken Tuvok. He shook his head, frustration on his face. "Tom can sleep with me. You can sleep with Tuvok."

"Why?" Chakotay said, turning hard dark eyes on the younger man.

"Because ... because ... *Tom's* married! Even if you forgot that, Tom, *I* haven't."

Tom looked at Harry, his face paling. "You think I have?"

"I heard you two in the bunk. I heard you two ... *making out* like you had the *right*. Like you weren't *married*."

Tom rose slowly, stung. He picked up his dishes and walked to the recycler. Dumping them down the chute, he stood a moment and then turned. "I thought I was married too. I haven't forgotten it for a moment."

With that he turned and walked out of the room. Harry watched him, hands clenched in frustration. Turning to Chakotay, he shook his head. "He's vulnerable," Harry spat. "He's in a condition for exploitation and you're doing that. *B'Elanna* is practically your *daughter*."

Chakotay rose, stepping close to Harry, his face glacial with coldness. "You don't think *I* know that?"

"No, *Captain*, I don't."

Chakotay stared at Harry, their eyes locked in fury. Then he stepped away, walking to the door. Turning, he looked at Harry.

"Mind your own business."

With that, Chakotay turned and walked from the room. Harry watched him, his heart pounding in his chest. He was here, not three hundred miles from his parents, locked in a titanic struggle that statistically they couldn't possibly win given enough time.

Harry never felt so bad or so alone. He turned and walked to the door, pausing as he stared at Chakotay. Tom was with him, listening as they talked together. Tom nodded and sighed, his face sad. Chakotay leaned forward and kissed him softly, stepping inside the room. Tom stared inside and watched for a moment, stepping back as Chakotay exited. In his hands were a blanket and pillow.

Harry swallowed and watched as Chakotay walked to the couch, tossing them down. Tom looked at him longingly and turned, walking inside the room. The door closed and Chakotay stared at it, his face filled with passion and want. Harry stepped out, walking quietly to his bedroom, moving past a silent commander.

Without a word, he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. Chakotay stared at the door to Tom's room for a long, long time before wearily turning in to sleep.

=0=


	7. Chapter 7

=0=

Book Seven: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

It was hot on the trail and Tom wiped sweat off his brow with a bandana. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he followed Chakotay. They were walking in a line across the desert, moving slowly toward the edge of the marked area. They were coming to a rise, beyond which the forbidden area began. The first day had been spent walking around and establishing themselves, letting people watch them looking at plants and rocks. They had decided the shortest path to the edge of the prison where they would make the most of the short amount of time they would probably have.

All along the way they looked at plants, taking samples of rocks and otherwise acting like tourists. They believed there would be a high likelihood for someone to come out and check them. They had packed a lunch and water, their identification cards as well and set out, walking ten miles to the edge of the security zone so they could parallel it, all the while pretending to be interested in other things.

Chakotay led the way, Tom following with Harry next and Tuvok last. The heat didn't seem to bother the silent Vulcan, no indication of the more than one hundred-degree temperature outwardly registering. "Marker ahead," Chakotay said, pausing by an interesting plant.

Tom walked over and bent down, noting its delicate fronds. "We're nearly to the ridge. Won't be long now."

"Yeah," Chakotay said, standing up and photographing the plant carefully. "I expect visitors before we're done today."

Tom nodded and stood up, uncapping his water bottle. He took a deep drink and put it back on his belt. They moved on, climbing the ridge and pausing at the top. Beyond them, shimmering in the heat of the day, a big installation stood. Fields nearby showed cultivation. Beyond them were buildings, long and low, and a fenced perimeter that had towers at intervals. They stared at it, filming it with their small cameras and then they turned and walked along the ridge, moving along a small animal trail.

For a half-hour they walked, filming the camp and work plants all around, running low energy scanners and makingpictures as well. They gathered rock specimens and talked, fully aware of a vehicle moving in their direction. They could hear it and they stowed their tiny cameras and sensor gear in the sand nearby, marking it with a brightly colored rock. Bending down in a group, they paused over a strange band of rock that jutted out of the ground.

As they did, the vehicle topped the ridge and drove down toward them. Three men were inside and they were all armed. They pulled up short, the group rising to stare at them. Chakotay turned, rock pick in hand and watched as they climbed out and came toward them.

"Are you aware that this is a restricted area?"

Chakotay looked around, shrugging. "We haven't crossed any marked areas have we? We've been observing posted signs."

The officer looked at him and noted his hammer. "Rock hunting?"

Chakotay smiled. "Rocks, plants, it's all interesting."

He nodded, looking at the others. "May I see your identification please?"

Harry stepped forward. "I'm John Yang of Proctor's Tours. We're on a biology tour here. All our paperwork is on file with the appropriate authorities."

"I understand that, sir. However, you need to show *us* your paperwork."

Harry nodded and turned, picking up his backpack. He dug out their permits and other identification as the others sought their own. The officers studied it and recorded the data. He handed it back and noted their diversity.

"We don't often get Trills and Bajorans out here. The desert isn't something they usually come to Earth to see."

Tom smiled. "Deserts are something I like to see."

The officer smiled. "Very well. Please observe the markers. Don't cross them or you'll be detained."

They agreed and the officers climbed back inside their vehicle, backing up and driving away. They watched them go and then retrieved their cameras. Chakotay sighed and turned to the group. "A couple of more hours of this and we can call it a day. No sense pushing our luck."

They nodded and turned, walking along and carrying on the way they had begun. At no time in the proceedings did they forget that they were being watched and so they acted accordingly. By the time they had skirted one entire side of the installation, they were ready to go back. The ten and a half miles back to the cabin had been arduous and when they arrived back, the sun was waning. It was cooler and the beauty of the desert was shifting through the color spectrum as darkness descended.

They trooped into the house, walking across the deck and entered, dropping their packs by the door. Tom walked to the sink, washing his face with cool water. Turning, he walked to the bathroom, stripping and entering the shower with gratitude. He stood a moment and then washed, stepping out and toweling off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back into the living room, pausing to note that dinner was being eaten. He turned and walked into the bedroom, falling backward on the quilted bed. He lay there a moment and sat up when Chakotay entered, watching him as he dropped his towel and began to dress. He was beautiful, Tom thought, sitting and scratching his chest idly.

"You're sun burned."

Tom smiled. "I always burn."

Chakotay turned, dressed in black pants, a white t-shirt as yet hanging untucked. He gazed at Tom, noting his beauty.

"You look great as a Trill."

Tom smiled and rose, tightening the towel around his waist. He walked closer and stood, touching Chakotay's strong arm.

"You look good period."

Chakotay sighed and turned slightly, his hand rubbing Tom's

chest. "Soft," he whispered, leaning in and kissing Tom's lips. Tom kissed him back, the two lingering. Chakotay slipped an arm around Tom, pulling him closer. He kissed him again, the two moving together as Tom's arms closed around Chakotay's neck.

They kissed several times and then paused, standing together silently. "Life sucks. You'd think I'd learn that," Tom said, rubbing his cheek against Chakotay's.

"I love you. Don't forget that."

"Yeah, I won't," Tom replied, sighing softly. "I think that the universe hates me. Nothing ever works out. Not Star Fleet. Not B'Elanna. Not even you."

"I'm here," Chakotay said, looking at Tom with intensity.

"Yeah," Tom said, sighing sadly. "I don't know which is worse. Wanting you and having you this close or wanting you and being far away."

A noise at the door drew their attention and Tom stepped away, turning to the bag sitting on the floor next to the bed. He pulled out clothes and quickly dressed, walking to the living room and then the kitchen beyond. Everyone was sitting, eating their dinners, and nearby a small tricorder was converting the information they collected into code. He replicated a meal and sat, listening to the conversation. Tuvok rose and walked to the tricorder, checking the data. He turned and looked at Chakotay. "It's nearly done," he said.

"We can't get to the other side of the camp without crossing all kinds of security triggers. We can't fly over. Our options are limited here," Chakotay said, musing over their options.

Tuvok nodded. "It would be in our best interests to pull out and go back."

Chakotay stared at him, filled with frustration that his father was less than ten miles from where he sat now. Tuvok's son, Set, was also there. He rose and walked to the tricorder, running through the information as he stood tensed with frustration.

It showed the basic schematics of the camp, the sensor placements and how far everything was from everything else. It

didn't tell them what building people they loved lived in nor did it give more than the basic outline of where the security apparatus was. It would be in all likelihood all the information they were going to get as well. He turned and nodded. "It would be good to get out of here."

"Chakotay," Harry said, looking at him with anxious eyes. "I ..."

Everyone turned and looked at Harry, noting his agitation. "I would like to ask a favor. In private."

Chakotay looked at him and nodded, following Harry as he led his captain to the living room. Tom watched them go, guessing what he wanted before he was even told. Harry's parents didn't live very far from here. He was sure that this request had something to do with that.

Tom rose and walked to the sink, putting his dishes in the basin. He rubbed his face, waiting for both to come back in and he didn't have to wait long. Chakotay walked to the table, picking up his dishes. Turning, he put them in the sink, turning and standing next to Tom. "Harry asked to see his parents and I agree."

"See them? What do you mean?" Tom asked, glancing between the two men.

"They live near the beach and always take a walk in the early evening. He wants to be nearby and see them, not meet them. I don't believe that there is anything to gain in seeing them in person and having to leave to the DMZ. There would be only an escalation of worry for them."

Tom nodded, glancing at Tuvok. He sat quietly. "On our way back, I presume?"

"Yes," Chakotay said. "We better pack it up. There's nothing for us to do here any further."

Tuvok rose and nodded, rising and walking to the living room. It took them very little time to gather things together. Walking out the door, they paused, looking up at the bright blue sky.

"We need to check out the area as we go. I want you to watch for security that might be roving out, any military presence or civilian authorities that we'll have to account for in planning. Road conditions as well will need to be remembered. It was dark when we came before but we have a chance to take care of that part of this recon,"

Chakotay said, glancing back at the three of them. They nodded and they all boarded their vehicle. It would take three hours of driving after check out to make it to Taos, where the Flyer waited. Along the way they would take note of military vehicles traveling to and from the general direction of the camp area. They would notice that the area was as sparsely populated as it always was and that the authorities patrolled a huge area in mobile vehicles.

The drive to Taos was scenic and hot and by the time they pulled into the Taos airport, they were ready for a swim. They checked in the car and walked to their berth, boarding the ship and greeting Seven.

"I take it that you were successful?" she asked, noting that they had come back almost two days early.

"We were," Tuvok said, handing her the information they had taken.

"The camp can't be accessed from any side but the one we used. It's scanned as good as we can scan it short of a fly over or a guided tour," Tom said, tossing his bag down. "It looks as solid as Fort Knox."

She raised an eyebrow, watching as they walked to their positions. "I take it we're on our way back now."

"Not yet," Tom said, sitting in the pilot's seat. "We're on our way to San Francisco."

"Whatever for?" she asked, surprised.

"We're going to take a look in on Harry's parents."

She stared at him and raised an eyebrow. "That is illogical given our circumstances," she said, glancing at Harry. Her expression softened at the emotionality of his and she turned to Tom, straightening her posture. "But given the circumstances, understandable."

She turned and took the data. She would encode it further and put it on a chip that was small enough to be concealed on her person. They could take no chances in losing it should something go wrong on the long and dangerous trip back to the DMZ.

It took only seconds for them to get clearance with the tower and Tom moved the ship along the tarmac, heading for takeoff behind two commercial liners. They sat for a second and then the shuttle lifted off, heading in a long arc over the city of Taos as she arced toward the coast and the blue Pacific beyond. It took fifteen minutes of flying to enter the control space of San Francisco, the beautiful and historic city shimmering below, lights of the evening glowing in the advancing darkness. They landed and pulled into their berth, shutting down as Chakotay and Harry rose to leave.

"Tom? Could you come too?" Harry asked, his pale face filled with anxiety and pain.

"Sure, Harry," Tom said, rising.

Nodding to Tuvok and Seven, the three men walked to the hatch door and stepped out, moving casually across the tarmac to the terminal beyond. The city beckoned, all of its beauty and kinetic energy meeting them as they walked to the public transport platform. They waited until the train that would take them to the bayarrived and then they climbed aboard, joining mostly humans for the commute to the waters edge. Sitting by the door, Tom smiled at a woman who smiled back.

"You're a Trill aren't you?" she asked, her Star Fleet uniform crisp and tailored on her slim body.

Tom nodded, smiling.

"I've never met a Till before. Are you a carrier?"

Tom paused a moment. "Excuse me?"

She paused herself, becoming flustered. "I didn't say that right. I'm sorry. Do you have a symbiont?"

Tom smiled, relaxing. "No. Few of us do."

"I see. I love your spots. I always thought they looked so beautiful."

Tom smiled. "Thanks."

The carrier stopped, several people getting off and on. Then it began again. A big man walked over and sat next to the woman, smiling at her brightly. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied, obviously delighted to see him.

They began to talk, engaged in their conversation, and Tom felt better, relaxing slightly as he sat. The carrier stopped again and Harry rose, followed by Chakotay. Tom rose and nodded to the woman, moving off with the other two to the street beyond. As they left, the big man watched, a look of concentration on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"That man, the Trill ... he reminds me of someone."

"Who?" she asked watching as the three men walked toward the waterfront. They disappeared down the street and the carriage continued on.

**********At the beach...

John and Mae Kim walked along the sand, holding hands and talking. The sun was setting along the horizon, the sky brilliant colors of red, orange and purple. It was quiet, most of the beach unoccupied. They walked along, reviewing the day. They didn't see three men standing on the bluff watching them as they strolled.

Harry looked at them with an indescribable sense of anguish. They looked so small and much older than he had remembered. They were together and they were alive. That part was comforting. That he couldn't just run down and embrace them was torture. Absolute and total torture.

Chakotay stood beside him, filled with a precise knowledge of what Harry felt. He had felt it watching over the bluff to the prison where his father had languished for more than nine years. He wanted to tear down and take the place apart plank by plank. He wanted to gather his father onto his back and walk all the way back to the DMZ, delivering him to his mother and her broken heart.

But it wasn't to be anymore than it would be possible for Harry to go down there and embrace his parents. It wasn't to be, not now anyway. They paused by the shore, staring out at the water and then they turned, walking back toward the road that led to their home. They stood together, the three of them watching until the couple disappeared.

Harry stood silently, tears running down his face. He wept unashamedly and neither of the two men with him commented. Tom rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, comforting him in the only way he could. He could sense Chakotay's sorrow, feeling his unspoken pain as well. As he stood there he sighed, wondering what it meant to miss someone like that. He, himself was a man without a center and that kind of longing, that terrible painful unrequited aching for someone was something that he seldom indulged in.

They stood a moment and then they turned, walking back to the street. They would return to the ship and board her, getting clearance to leave. A slow trip away from the Sol system would take them back through seven days of deceptive traveling before they would arrive at the DMZ once more.

**********In an apartment later that night...

They lay together, spent from their exertions, and talked quietly. She felt warm and satisfied, her boy friend more than adequate to her own needs. He had more than satisfied himself as well. He grinned and sighed. "This is a better evening than I had counted on, Fran. Thank you."

"Thank you too," she replied, snickering. "If not you, then the Trill maybe."

He snorted and paused, his face filling with a look of clarity.

"What?" she asked, her curiosity rising.

"That Trill, he looked so familiar. I *know* I've seen his face before."

"Where?" she asked, holding onto the covers as he rose and walked naked across the room to the computer terminal nearby. He punched it on and searched for a particular picture. A handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed face appeared. He worked for a moment and then spots appeared on the human face staring out at them. She rose, wrapping the sheet around herself. Walking over, she peered, watching as a transformation took place.

"Isn't this the man on the transport?" he asked.

"It sure looks like him," she agreed.

"It does," he said, pondering the resemblance.

"Who is it?" she asked.

He thought a moment. "If it's him, then the Trill on the transport was Tom Paris."

=0=

Book Seven: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

Two days later...

He walked down the hall, summoned from his station to an interview with Star Fleet Intelligence. He paused at the conference door, taking a deep breath. Knocking, he heard a voice give permission to enter. He stepped in, noting a sparsely furnished room, two men standing before a window and a table and three chairs. They introduced themselves and asked him to sit, waiting as he did. Pulling out a padd, they handed it to him, asking him to read it. He did and nodded, waiting patiently.

"Lieutenant Barker, we received your report about ten hours ago. It was routed through the system to our Office of Investigations. We want you to think hard now and pull out of your mind anything that will help us in determining what exactly, if anything, you saw."

He nodded and thought a moment, clearing his voice. "I was riding home on a transit vehicle with my girlfriend, Francine Alexander. I joined her late and noticed there was this Trill sitting across from us at the time."

He continued and told them all he knew, from his faint feeling of recognition to the moment when he rose from bed and transposed Trill markings on the photograph of Tom Paris pulled from Star Fleet's archives. By the time he was finished, they had taken lots of notes. Beyond them, standing at the window, another person watched listening to the conversation with pointed interest.

He sighed and turned, nodding to his aide-de-camp. The younger man turned and walked out the door, leaving the Fleet Admiral alone. As he stood watching the interview, unseen and unheard, Admiral Owen Paris considered his options.

/... Slim to none .../

He sighed again and listened, spending the next forty minutes hanging on every word that Lt. Barker spoke.

**********Five hours before the traverse begins...

They had pulled off the beaten path, fading into the background noise of a pulsar, heading with post haste to the mine-strewn asteroid field that served as one boundary for the DMZ. It would be with minefield map firmly implemented into the flight plan that they would begin their traverse.

"Tom, I'm picking up a ship, bearing mark 106.5."

Harry's voice broke Tom's reverie and he perked up, checking his console. Behind him, Chakotay moved to engineering as Tuvok took tactical.

"Any indication what kind of ship, Harry?" Tom asked. It was quiet a moment and then Harry spoke softly. "It appears to be an Intrepid class star ship."

"Sorrel Bay?" Tom whispered, moving to implement evasive maneuvers.

"Count on it. How many Intrepids are out here besides her and us?" Chakotay said his voice flat and professional. "Set sensors at their limits and take us out of here, Tom. There should be a number of anomalies that we can camouflage ourselves with ahead."

"Aye," Tom answered, moving the Flyer along a different path.

It was quiet a moment and then Harry spoke again. "They're moving with us."

"Very well," Chakotay said grimly. "Surprise isn't an issue nor is stealth anymore. Get us out of here, Tom."

"All right," Tom said, stepping up their speed.

They shot away and behind them the other ship matched their speed. They were heading for the leading edge of the nebula, heading for the safety that the destruction of a small old star could provide. They moved along, Tom skillfully flying them around objects large and small.

**********On the Sorrel Bay...

"Match them, Mr. Crusher," Janeway said, her voice betraying nothing of her gut feelings that this was a shuttle from Voyager. It had been modified but this was the Delta Flyer, of that she was sure.

"They're heading into the debris field from the nebula, Captain," Crusher said, glancing over his shoulder at his commander.

"Follow them," she said, sitting calmly in her chair. "Watch for debris." She turned and looked at her tactical officer. "Mr. Curtis, I want to be ready to fight if necessary. Make sure you're up to it and follow my orders completely."

"Aye, Captain," the youngster said, moving his fingers around the board.

Ahead of them, flying fast and well the shuttle that contained her former friends and current nemesis sped. They were heading for the nebula and the safety of the minefield ahead. She knew the pathway through as well and she was prepared to enter it and chase them if necessary. Before that entertained itself as a course of action she was going to try and catch them first on this side of the no man's land of the DMZ.

**********Flyer...

"They're gaining on us," Seven's voice said, calm in spite of their situation.

"Harry, how far to the DMZ?"

"At this speed and with this altered course three hours."

"How far to the nebula?" Chakotay asked again.

"Twenty minutes," Harry replied.

"Tuvok, be ready to fire at a moment's notice. Tom, get us into the nebula no matter what it takes."

"I'll try," Tom said, hunching over his controls. He coaxed more power and they flew at nearly top speed but the big ship matched them and if they flew straight to the minefield they would probably be overtaken. Their only hope was to make it to the temporary safety of the nebula, both ships being blinded in the swirling energy. At that point, it would be all strategy, planning and cunning to get out first and make it to safety beyond.

As he flew he felt a jolt and a burst of energy broke over their stern. Sorrel Bay was firing and Tom began evasive maneuvers.

"Enhance shields astern, Harry. Tuvok, return fire."

Tuvok's fingers flew as rage welled in him and he fired at the big ship slowly gaining on them. His son's face flashed through his mind and he ruthlessly suppressed it, maintaining icy control of his emotions. Later, Sek, he thought as he fired on Sorrel Bay.

Later.

Tom twisted and turned like a snake, some strikes hitting

but most glancing off.

"Shields down to eighty percent," Seven said, gripping the console as she swayed under a hit.

"Take us in, Tom!" Chakotay hollered, hunched over his panel as he monitored environmental controls.

They met the leading edge, hitting a thin swirl of plasma and shot past it, moving into the twisting and twirling tunnels of color before them. Behind them, slowing only slightly, Sorrel Bay entered too. They were both blind, both of them incommunicado and they flew hunting in the mix, one seeking exit and the other seeking blood.

"How far from here in the straightest line possible are we from the minefield?" Chakotay asked.

"Given a high warp factor, we can make the edge of the asteroid field from here in about three minutes."

Chakotay considered Harry's words and nodded. "We can't see them and they can't see us. If we burst out of here and run for it we might be able to make the field in short order, gaining a small advantage over Janeway. If we stay here we will eventually meet and trading shots in their closeup space around this much volatile material isn't what I want." He sat a moment and then turned to Harry. "No readings on them?"

"Nothing but a faint echo."

"How far away?"

"Not far but it's going away from us at the moment. If we go back the way we came in we should be clear in seconds and have the advantage."

Chakotay nodded at Harry's words and looked at Tuvok, who nodded in agreement. Chakotay turned to Tom, considering his moves.

"Tom, take us out of here and haul ass. We have to make the advantage count."

Tom nodded and turned her slightly retracing the route they had taken. In seconds, they broke free, entering dark space again and he threw her forward as fast as he could this close to plasma. As he did, Chakotay considered his options.

"Tuvok, fire a burst of phasers at the place we existed. I want enough gases to ignite that it prevents them from following us from that close of a starting place."

"Aye, Captain."

Tuvok's fingers flew and fire shot behind them, hitting the plasma with a roar. A huge flash could be seen all around them and then an explosion. The leading edge of the shock wave hit them and they were rocked themselves. Tom compensated and flew on, safety and the minefield looming.

"Harry, any sign of pursuit?" Chakotay asked, monitoring the ship's systems.

"None so far."

"Tuvok, any sign of the Sorrel Bay?"

He was silent a moment and then looked up. "She's exiting the nebula and appears to be damaged."

"Scan her."

It was silent a moment and then Harry spoke. "Major damage to the right nacelle and structural damage to her hull. At this moment, she doesn't appear to be warp capable."

Chakotay sat a moment and then turned to Tuvok. They stared at each other and then Chakotay nodded. Tuvok opened a comm line.

"Flare one. Flare one."

For a moment there was nothing and then a voice answered. "Flare received. On our way."

The line cut off and Chakotay turned, watching Sorrel Bay as they vented plasma through a gaping hole in their nacelle. She was listing and he knew her to be incapable of more than impulse power, if that. He also knew that the Crazy Horse was jetting her way toward them from the base where she waited their return. "I want her monitored," Chakotay said. "If she even comes close to being ready to fly I want to know."

"Understood," Tuvok said, his eyes never leaving the console before him.

For an hour and a half, they waited and then they heard loud and clear a comm from Crazy Horse. Chakotay opened a channel. "First One here. Come through."

"Received and acknowledged," the voice said and on their sensors they could see the signature of Crazy Horse coming toward them. As it did, Chakotay rose and hit the comm line, opening a channel to Sorrel Bay. "Chakotay to Janeway."

For a long moment there was no sound and then the channel crackled. A hard voice, minus visuals, crossed the distance between them. "Janeway here."

"We're here to offer assistance."

"You've done enough for us."

"Captain, my ship is coming and we're prepared to fire on you unless you yield and surrender your ship." For a long moment there was only silence and then the hard voice returned. "Never."

At that moment, Crazy Horse cleared the minefield and appeared around two big asteroid fragments. She hove into view and Chakotay watched her. "Mr. Paris, take us in."

"Aye," Tom said quietly.

With the movement of his fingers, he flew the shuttle forward toward the opening bay of the hangar deck. In seconds they would be on board and on the Bridge where they would settle the matter before them.

**********On the Sorrel Bay...

The smell of ozone surrounded them as she came to, stunned and knocked off her feet by the unexpected explosion. It had ignited the gases around them and the resulting concussion had collapsed the right nacelle like it was a pile of cards.

They had contained the explosion, the resulting shorting of systems being rather like a surge, one taking out the next followed by others in rapid succession. Even though they were hit hard with many injuries, there were no fatalities as of yet.

They had shut down the warp core, the safeties stilling the volatile mix of matter and anti-matter ensuring that another catastrophic cascade wouldn't take place. The ship was on minimums, minimum life support, minimum energy, no weapons and no communications array. The main computer had been backfed and the burning of circuits signaled major damage.

The blast, intended to be small had taken a larger chunk of plasma than first estimated and it had blasted the ship from the rear, tearing and breaking and ripping her hull. The data from department heads, coming in with rapidity filled the air and she turned moving to a panel ripping it off herself.

Lt. Crusher lay on the deck not moving, his face and hands burned from a surge through the helm and a medic was bending over him working feverishly. Geordi had left the Bridge, flying toward engineering and the stilled heart of her ship. She turned and looked at a computer noting the number of systems upon which she could no longer count. Computers were marginal. Life support was adequate. Weapons and sensors were off line. Hull integrity was barely adequate over fourteen percent of the ship's exterior surface and more than fifty of her crew were hurt from minimal aches and pains to critical injuries.

She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and noted with a wince that it was red with her own blood. She stared at her screen and watched as a small shuttle entered the safe haven of her former ship. Words that shook her blared through her mind like a siren.

/... We're fucked ... we're totally fucked .../

**********On the Crazy Horse...

Miles O'Brien stepped back as four men and a woman crowded onto the lift. They called for the Bridge and rode in silence. Reaching their destination, they hurried off and took their places. Miles, standing in the doorway stepped to one side watching the spectacle on the main view screen. An identical ship was listing dramatically, colorful streams of energy filtering out of glowing holes in a nacelle. She was in dire straights and he knew she was a sitting duck for whatever happened. His gut knotted up, the tension and apprehension of the moment overwhelming his growing desire to turn away. But he didn't, standing where he was as he watched the drama unfurl.

His new captain stood watching also and then walked to the helm. He put his hand on the shoulder of the Trill sitting there speaking to him in a voice he couldn't hear. Then he turned and looked toward tactical. "Tuvok, I want to know if she arms the self-destruct device. I want enough time to back off. Scan for any attempt to abandon ship. I don't want to be too close if she decides to blow her up."

Tuvok nodded, moving to set the monitors in motion. Chakotay turned and watched the screen for a moment. "Open a channel."

"Channel's open, Captain. Visuals?"

"Yes," Chakotay said, watching as the screen flickered. A brief scene flickered of the Sorrel Bay Bridge and then it was cut, returning to stars once more. "Chakotay to Janeway. Open a channel, Kathryn."

For a moment it was silent and then a crackly comm line sparkled. "I don't have time for a conversation with traitors." Her voice was icy and they stood a moment absorbing it.

Then Chakotay spoke again. "Our sensors tell us that you're going nowhere. They tell us you have a lot of wounded. I want your surrender and we'll guarantee your safety and the tending of your people."

"You're responsible for this happening. I can't trust you to keep your word."

"You have no choice. We can put a torpedo into you and blow you all to hell. I suggest you surrender. If you don't, we're going to board you and take your ship deck by deck. Anyone who dies defending her will be blood on your hands."

There was silence for a moment and then she spoke again. "It looks you'll just have to do that."

With that, she commed off and the screen went back to a star field. Chakotay stood there a moment and then he turned and walked up to Tuvok. For ten minutes, they stood together reading, scanning and discussing. Then Chakotay turned and walked to the conn. "Sick Bay, prepare to receive prisoners with injuries."

"Acknowledged," the doc's voice said.

Chakotay turned and nodded to Tuvok. The Vulcan nodded back and walked from his station to the lift. As he disappeared, he could hear the commands given. "This is Tuvok. I need security details formed on the hangar deck, situation red-one-seven. Heavy arms required. Be prepared to receive instructions. We're boarding the Sorrel Bay to take the crew."

It was silent a moment and then Chakotay spoke again. "Tom, I want you to pull back two diameters. I don't want to be caught with my fly open."

Tom nodded and moved the ship as Chakotay turned to Harry. "I want a lock on the destruct device on that ship. I want to know if she's going to be doing something stupid."

Harry stared at the screen and then Chakotay, nodding as he did. He turned to his console, hoping against hoping that his former Captain's anger with his present Captain didn't kill them all in the end.

=0=

Book Seven: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

On the Sorrel Bay...

She stood on the Bridge listening as the news spilled over the comm system. The ship was being boarded and teams with guns were taking her methodically. They couldn't hold them out fpr long, the shields generators unable to withstand the barrage of fire they delivered before they began to beam over. Internal communications were sporadic at best and she had no idea what was really happening except that her people were resisting. Teams had beamed into the ship's major points, showing up in Engineering, the hangar deck and the main computer nexus among others.

She had hurried over to the console by engineering, calling up her self-destruct mechanism only to find that it had been disabled from Engineering. Over the comm line, the one channel that still worked she could hear frantic calls and screaming. She turned and walked to an arms panel, pulling it open. Taking a phaser, she turned it to heavy stun. As she did she heard a shimmering sound and turned, pressing the trigger and pointing blindly. The sound rang out before she was hit with multiple beams of energy, the breath being forced from her lungs. Electrical energy shot up her spine and overloaded her brain, knocking her off her feet as she was hit.

She hit the wall and fell forward landing in a tangled heap on the floor. The sound of feet shuffling and a muffled scream met her ears before she blessedly slipped into unconsciousness. They surrendered immediately, throwing down their arms as they huddled over the wounded fear in their eyes. Tuvok turned looking at his Captain. He had shot her ending her struggle and in doing so capitulated the ship completely. "Tuvok to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"I have stunned the Captain. The Bridge is secured."

"Very well. Can you open a channel to the rest of the ship."

"I will attempt to open a channel ship wide. Stand by."

Chakotay turned to the screen, watching as the ship hung in space, the stream of plasma slowing as the frantic work crews

labored. They had secured that part of the ship and main engineering first, turning the 'Fleet crew back to their jobs. The rest had been taken by strategic importance, deck by deck, shoot out by shoot out until they had breached the Bridge, overpowering the Captain and securing the command center.

"Tuvok to Chakotay."

Chakotay looked up from Harry's console. "Chakotay here."

"I have devised a temporary comm line that will broadcast ship wide."

"Very good," Chakotay said. "Patch me through."

"Done," Tuvok answered, watching as a crewmember picked Kathryn Janeway up, moving her to the lower deck for security reasons.

"Crew of Sorrel Bay, this is Captain Chakotay of the Maquis battle cruiser Crazy Horse. Your Captain has been taken prisoner and we've secured the Bridge. We're securing the ship deck by deck and you have no hope to prevail. What I am telling you now is to put down your arms and come forward. You will not be hurt. If you don't do this we will hunt you down one by one if we need to. There will be a five-minute grace period for you to decide. If you don't surrender we will hunt you down. Five minutes. Chakotay out."

He hit the switch, turning and staring at the screen. He glanced at the tactical console, the areas of white superimposed on Sorrel Bay growing by the second. They were areas that were secured, places where the crew was captured or contained. It wouldn't be long now before the big ship was completely in their hands.

They sat a moment and then the door opened, B'Elanna walking off the lift. Tom glanced at her shocked for a moment at how long it had been since he had seen her and then he turned back, noting that she had not glanced at him once since she entered the room. She moved to where Chakotay stood at the Ops station. "Do you want to have the ship towed back or do you want us to take her there on impulse?"

He looked at her, noting her all business mask. "I want her any way I can get her. See if she can move on her own. If not, I need to know as soon as possible if we have to tow her. I don't want to be here too long. I don't want anyone showing up on us."

She nodded and turned, walking quickly away to the lift, disappearing into it and into the ship beyond. He watched the door close and turned walking to the lower deck. He moved to the helm pulling the navigator's chair out and moving it closer to Tom. Sitting, he leaned on the console staring at the screen beyond them. He turned and looked at Tom, at the black lines that wove their way up the side of his face. "Anything out there that looks like trouble?"

Tom shook his head, his eyes flickering toward Chakotay. "Can't say the same for in here."

Chakotay nodded, sighing. "She's mystifying to me too."

"Well, fortunes of war. You win some and you lose some."

Chakotay moved his chair closer, leaning forward. "I'm sorry."

Tom relaxed slightly. "I know," he said, glancing at Chakotay with his dark Trill eyes. "It means a lot to have you. I don't know if it will ever mean more than it does but I want you to know that I'm glad that we're still together. No matter how this turns out."

Chakotay nodded. "I want to kiss you. I want to hold you, Tom. I think about it a lot and I know that I can't. I mean, I can't can I?"

Tom looked at Chakotay and smiled softly. "We're a pair aren't we? You and me?"

"I wish we were," Chakotay said wistfully.

"Torres to Chakotay."

Her voice jolted them and they moved slightly back from each other.

"Chakotay here."

"We won't be able to use our own power, Chakotay. We'll need to be towed."

"Very well. Can you get her ready?"

"We're on it. Torres out."

"Tuvok to Captain Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Captain, we have secured the ship. Crew that are uninjured number one hundred and two. We have put them into confinement on the cargo decks. Fifty-two crew personnel including Captain Janeway are in SickBay and the Captain's private mess hall receiving treatment. I have taken the liberty of having personnel from Crazy Horse beam over to assist."

"Very good. B'Elanna says we can tow Sorrel Bay. We're preparing to do so. I want out of here as soon as possible."

"Acknowledged. I will remain here if you wish, directing the situation on site."

"Good, Tuvok. Keep me informed."

"Affirmative. Tuvok out."

Chakotay rose wearily walking to the tactical station. He watched as the Sorrel Bay began to be made ready for tow. All of her fires were out, the vulnerable parts of her hull reinforced and the nacelle shut down completely. Crews had secured the ship's systems for the journey. Chakotay felt confident enough that they would be able to make it through the minefield with a careful tow of the ship. He turned and walked back to his chair.

"Open a coded channel, Harry."

"Channel open," Harry said.

"First One."

It was silent a moment and then a voice spoke. "Home."

"Coming back. Big catch."

"Affirmative. Sending reception."

"Received. First One out."

Chakotay turned and nodded to Harry. "Tell them we're go."

Harry nodded and opened a channel. "B'Elanna, we're go. Are you ready?"

"Good to go, Harry. Take it slow."

"Affirmative." Harry looked up and nodded to Chakotay.

He turned and looked at Tom. "Take us through, Tom. Slowly."

Tom nodded and turned, implementing the flight plan through the minefield. They moved forward, a tractor beam holding the Sorrel Bay in place. Impulse power moved them in unison toward the field nearby and they edged into it, their shields turning aside debris, casting the Sorrel Bay into a shadow of protection from Crazy Horse.

They were into the field quite a distance when Star Fleet signatures began to show up on the far edge of their sensor range. Chakotay watched them, noting that they would be on the other side, deeper into Maquis country before the echoes would reach the scene of the fight. He would be glad when they got there, noting mentally that Maquis fighters would be coming to escort them in. He stood up and walked to the helm, leaning down by Tom's ear.

"I'm going over to Sorrel Bay. I want to bring Janeway over here and put her into our Brig. You have the conn."

Tom looked up and nodded, his dark eyes luminous. Chakotay looked at him and licked his lips, hesitating for a moment as he did. Tom stared at him, then at the console. Chakotay squeezed his shoulder and turned, walking to the lift. "Tom has the conn."

He entered the lift and was gone. Harry watched him go, clear on what he had just witnessed. Chakotay was wavering but he hadn't crossed the line yet. B'Elanna had ignored Tom, moving on and off the Bridge without even looking his way. It mystified him and he made a mental note to talk to her again forcing the issue if he had to. He knew it would take a while. They now had another Intrepid-class ship and one hundred and fifty-two prisoners, including Kathryn Janeway.

There would be work galore. The prison breakout was on the agenda to plan. No one would be sleeping let alone talking much in the next few days. He felt the turmoil of what they had done, the torn loyalties but he also felt the excitement of besting the enemy. Star Fleet, his beloved Star Fleet was the enemy now and he would have to rethink his feelings and priorities. He would be part of the hunt, the warrants on him including more charges and he knew he could never be caught. He would never live long enough to earn parole now. With a sigh, he bent to his job and pushed all the harder things out of his mind for later.

**********On the Sorrel Bay...

Chakotay materialized on the Bridge, noting that a skeleton crew was working the ship, helping to contain her injuries. He turned and walked to the lift, noting that it was still working. A short ride to Sick Bay gave him a first hand account of the number of injuries that had been incurred. He felt a flash of pain and suppressed it. The explosion had been more than he ordered, the volatility of plasma at best an inexact science.

Stepping over wounded, he entered the bay, looking around for the one he wanted. She was sitting on the floor, her head in her lap and he walked to her, nudging her with his boot. She looked up, a bruised and cut forehead gleaming against pale skin. She was battered and slightly dazed and for a moment, all his frustrated and wholly rejected emotional desire flashed through him. He had loved her, at least so he thought, but that was so long ago it felt like someone else's life. He didn't love her now. Even his friendship was tested. Now there was only adversity and strife. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet, turning and walking her roughly to the door.

He felt his rage rising as he dragged her along, stepping over wounded and walking past battered and frightened faces. She didn't resist, groaning slightly as he pushed her against the lift wall. The door closed and he called for the Bridge. They rode up, entering the Bridge together. He walked to the console, Janeway staggering along with him. He grabbed for a chair and sat her in it, turning her to face him. For a moment, he was seething with fury and then it drained away, weariness and futility replacing it. He tilted her face, waiting for her to see him. "Kathryn, tell me your command codes. Tell me now."

"No," she mumbled.

He gripped her face tighter, drawing a wince from her. "Tell me your command codes so I can salvage this ship. Your crew is in tatters and this ship is too. Tell me *now*."

She stared at him, her eyes pained as new blood seeped from her wound. "I trusted you. I thought you were my friend. You betrayed me."

He squeezed her jaw, unwilling to play games and travel old roads. They had little time and he had to do things now that would ensure all their safety. She groaned and closed her eyes tight, the pain shooting out from her jaw to her head. "You've lost. We have your ship. You can't continue. Your codes. Turn control over to me."

"You have Voyager. Isn't that *enough for you*?"

He swallowed hard, noting the crew watching them. He squeezed her jaw again, drawing a cry of pain from her. "I will hurt you, do you understand me? This isn't about us. This isn't about the Delta and what happened there. It's all out of our hands now. We don't have a choice. You stood your ground and you defended your ship. *Fine*. Now tell me your codes and surrender your ship to me. Tell me or tell someone else. Either way you lose. Now *tell me*."

She stared at him with fevered eyes, tears welling in them. He felt himself fill with misery but he schooled his face to reveal nothing but his implacable will. She would do best telling him. If she didn't, he couldn't protect her. She sighed and nodded, her head throbbing. In a halting voice, clouded with pain, she gave him the command codes to the Sorrel Bay. Turning, gathering his emotions, he entered them and keyed in his own. The ship complied and she was his. Turning, staring at the small figure hunched over in the chair, he gathered her into his arms. "Crazy Horse, this is Chakotay. Beam me to Sick Bay."

"Affirmative," Tom's voice said and he dissolved into thin air, arriving at the Sick Bay in seconds. Doc came forward and took her from his arms, moving her to lie on a biobed. He scanned her as Chakotay watched and then he turned, meeting dark and inscrutable eyes. "She has a concussion, Captain," the EMH said. "There are bruises and a cracked rib, not to mention bruising around her jaw. It's nothing that we can't repair."

Chakotay nodded and hit his com badge. "Tabor to the Sick Bay."

He moved to a console and opened a channel to the Sorrel Bay, watching as data on her status flowed by. As he did, the door opened and Tabor walked in. He smiled and walked to Chakotay, the two men embracing for a moment or two. Chakotay kissed him and Tabor kissed him back, looking at him for hurts and injury. "Tabor, I want a security guard on Janeway twenty-four, seven. Take the first shift. Put a security force field around her bed. The EMH is the only one to have access to her and she is not to be moved until I give the orders. She's to be in confinement here until we get to base."

Tabor nodded. Chakotay kissed him again and nodded turning and walking to the doorway. He exited and they all watched, Tabor, the EMH, Julian Bashir and the overflow patients from the Sorrel Bay. Tabor nodded to the other security guard and walked to stand by Janeway's bed. With a flick of his fingers the screen came up and she was secured. He sighed deeply, noting Chakotay's fatigue. He was glad that the quiet man was back. Maybe they could spend some time together in a nice relaxing place. If the war allowed that is. With a sigh, he pulled up a chair and sat down.

**********In the Brig...

Kira Nerys watched as several groups of healthy crew from Sorrel Bay were marched into holding cells. They now held forty people, comfort not being an object. It would only take a few hours until they made it to the homebase and other accommodations. She turned and accompanied her Maquis supervisor back out, moving to take her place near the Sorrel Bay's main engineering section. They didn't allow her out without supervision and wouldn't maybe for a long long time. Until she proved herself, she thought until I prove trustworthy. She walked to the lift the question reverberating all around her head.

/... Am I trustworthy? Especially now? ... /

=0=

They flew out, formations of fighters and they met the amazing tableau as they crossed into open space once again. The Crazy Horse, her sides gleaming white towed another like her battered and torn from battle. They formed around her and like bees hovering around blossoms followed them back to port. At headquarters, Bey and Nayib received the news with elation. It had been without a single death although several crewmembers were in danger due to burns. It would take a lot of work to pull them through but their prognosis indicated recovery.

Bey was glad for Chakotay's sake, knowing his brother as well as he did and he welcomed the addition of Sorrel Bay into their arsenal as well as the coup its capture represented. The Federation would probably sit on this incident, unwilling to let it become known. It would be a huge psychological blow to the ideal of Star Fleet invulnerability so carefully crafted following the end of the Dominion and Cardassian War. He cleared his schedule as he nade arrangements for security to take the healthy prisoners and medical personnel to assist with the injured. It was an exciting moment and he was determined to enjoy it with his brothers. Nayib sat on a counter watching him as he tidied up. A grin was on his face. Bey looked up and grinned back at him.

"A banner day, Beyvahl, this is a banner day," Nayib said.

"It is," Bey said. "This is almost too much bounty."

Nayib hopped down and moved to the door turning and

regarding his brother. "Will you get the lead out? Time to go."

Bey nodded and walked to the door going through it followed by Nayib. They walked down the hallway and out the door moving to the transport that was waiting. They boarded and rode to the airfield, getting out at the parking berth for a fighter that would take them up. They walked to it, boarding. It was a short hop up and they were flying out to meet the incoming ships. In a half hour, they had covered the distance, the flotilla emerging out of the darkness into view. Bey and Nayib stood by the window watching the spectacle as it drew closer.

Turning, Bey tapped the pilot. "We want to beam over as soon as we can."

The pilot nodded. "Blue One to Crazy Horse."

"Crazy Horse."

"We have two lions to transport. Affirm transmission."

There was a pause. "Transmission affirmed. Ship said cargo."

The pilot turned and nodded, the two men walking to the transporter pad in the back of the ship. They keyed in codes and the two men disappeared, reappearing on Crazy Horse seconds later. They stepped down, nodding to the transporter chief. Moving into the corridor, they called for Chakotay's location.

"Captain Chakotay is on the Bridge."

They walked to the lift and called for the Bridge, riding to deck one alone. They stepped off and smiled, watching as Chakotay looked up from Ops with a rapidly growing grin. He stepped over and into their arms hugging each other with relief.

"You were just supposed to come home. I don't remember ordering the Sorrel Bay," Bey said grinning brilliantly.

"It was a special order. You have a birthday soon don't you?" Chakotay asked immensely relieved to see them again.

"You did good, brother," Nayib said slapping Chakotay on the shoulder.

"Come with me. I'll show you want we've accomplished." Chakotay turned and walked to his Ready Room, the two men following. They entered and sat watching as Chakotay walked to the replicator. He keyed codes and glasses of brandy materialized. He took them and turned, handing them to his brothers. They waited until he had his own and then Bey raised his glass. "To good hunting and safe returns," he said.

"To safe returns," Chakotay replied.

They sipped their brandy, sitting together.

"Chakotay, I'm dazed with your abilities. You have sort of taken me away with all of this," Bey said shaking his head.

"It was a serendipitous moment," Chakotay said. "We meant to only rebuff them so we could cross the DMZ but it ignited a plasma stream and nearly took them out of the picture."

"It was fortuitous," Nayib agreed. "They won't mention this in the Federation until they have to."

"I agree," Chakotay said.

"The camp ... what did you find out?" Nayib asked.

"We spent two days there, exploring close to the borders. We scanned it and have the details that we could collect. They stopped us but let us go. We have the perimeter details, the basic camp layout and the security arrangements. The inner sanctum details are not something we could scan. It would take a flyover and that place is very secure. But I did notice something unusual. It was secured on the mountainous side, the side with roads and people and escape zones. But the desert side had very little security in comparison. It's as if they felt all but one side was impregnable."

"The desert surrounds the three sides with lighter security?" Nayib asked.

"Yes," Chakotay said. "They're pretty flat and you could see someone coming much easier. It's also very harsh terrain, nothing for beginners to even attempt."

"So that will help in planning."

"We're still going to do this?" Chakotay asked leaning back tiredly.

"We have to. We have to get our people out." Nayib rose and walked to the window staring out at the battered ship under tow.

"All right," Chakotay said. "I don't dispute that. We have to make sure that whatever we do it works. If we get caught there won't be any mercy."

Bey nodded and sighed. "We'll make sure it does work."

"Tuvok to Captain Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Captain, we're approaching our home port."

"On my way." He turned and put his glass in the recycler. "Let's go."

They rose and walked out, moving back to the Bridge. They passed the outer buoys, the fighters breaking off and made their way to the planet where they would fall into a parking orbit. Chakotay stood behind Tom, staring at the approaching planet. "Tom, clear our approach with the tower."

"Aye," Tom said, sending his message to the control tower below them. He received clearance and they moved on, entering their orbit with skill and care. They kept their tractor lock on the ship, waiting as salvage tugs made their way into parallel orbits with the crippled Sorrel Bay. They focused their tractor beams and the ship was held fast. Crazy Horse released her grip and moved away, the tugs beginning their slow descent into the atmosphere of the planet below. It would take about twenty minutes for the ships to make the full descent but when it was over the crippled Sorrel Bay would be standing on its own gear, her crew being moved to a holding building nearby.

Chakotay called for relief crew and waited for them to come. Bey and Nayib excused themselves, going down below to supervise the disposition of the ship and her people. He watched them go, relieved and happy to be back with them again. Relief crew arrived and he rose, giving the conn to another. He walked to the lift with Tom and Harry, entering together. They rode to Harry's deck, watching him go and when the doors closed Chakotay turned to Tom. "I'm going to miss your spots."

"I'm going to miss your ridges."

Chakotay smiled. "I never saw where they ended."

Tom smiled. "They end just where you thought."

"I don't suppose you'd let me see," Chakotay asked, a slight smile on his face.

Tom stared at him, a small smile on his own face. "Lift, halt."

The lift stopped, the room still as they stood apart. Tom looked at Chakotay, staring at him with his black Trill eyes. Then he turned and unfastened his trousers, holding them in his hands as he looked over his shoulder at the suddenly intense man behind him. He sighed and let go of his waistband, the trousers slipping slowly down his body until they pooled at his feet.

Chakotay swallowed hard, licking his suddenly dry lips. He stared at Tom's ass, noting a line of spots that came down his spine and ended at his tailbone. They split and divided, running along curve of his hips, around the swell of his ass and down the outside of his long legs. He watched them descend, moving his gaze back up. He paused at Tom's tailbone, noting a thin line of spots that descended downward, disappearing into the crack of Tom's ass. He moved forward and knelt, tracing a finger down the line, moving along the top of the cleft that beckoned to him.

Tom gasped and pressed his hands against the wall, bracing himself against the tide of pleasure that rose in him. Chakotay leaned forward, gripping the firm flesh before his eyes and pressed his lips against the small of Tom's back. Tom sighed and threw his head back, his eyes closed in pleasure. He pressed his ass backwards, pressing his face against the wall. "Oh, Chakotay ... so good," Tom whispered. "So good."

Chakotay rose and slid his hands up Tom's back, moving them around the front to rub Tom's stomach. He leaned against him, Tom pressing back toward him and they stood together touching each other. "Tom ... I want you so much," Chakotay whispered. "I want you."

"I know," Tom said, entwining his fingers through Chakotay's.

"Tuvok to Captain Chakotay."

They started, Chakotay looking over his shoulder. "Chakotay here."

"Captain, we're preparing to transfer Captain Janeway. You asked to be there when it was done."

Chakotay swallowed hard. "Very well. On my way."

Chakotay stood still a moment and sighed, stepping back. Tom sighed and reached down, pulling up his trousers. He fastened them, turning and staring at Chakotay. The older man was leaning against the door, gathering himself together.

"Timing," Chakotay said a tinge of bitterness in his voice. He looked at Tom. "At least I know."

"Know?" Tom asked, tucking in his shirt, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Where your spots end."

Tom grinned and looked at him with affection. "You did ask to see."

"I did," Chakotay agreed, a slight grin crossing his face.

"You better get going."

"I better. Join me?"

"I have to get my spots removed." Tom grinned.

"Then you're going my way," Chakotay said. He turned and sighed deeply. "Lift, continue."

The lift continued and they got off at the proper deck walking to Sick Bay. They walked together noting that people were moving toward the lift to be beamed over to the medical facilities planet side. By the time they entered most of the sick had been received care. They walked to the security diagnostic bed and noted that Janeway was sitting silently. Tuvok turned and looked at him, his face betraying nothing. "You wished to be here."

Chakotay nodded and stepped closer, Tom hanging back from the barrier. "Captain, you're to be taken to the security facility at our main base and kept there pending disposition of your case. Your comforts will be seen to."

She didn't look up for a moment and then she did, her eyes blazing with emotion and betrayal. She stared at all of them, lingering on Tom and Tuvok. She rose and walked to the barrier.

"Et tu, Tom?" she asked, her voice tight and soft.

Tom met her gaze and held it, giving nothing of his own hurt away. She turned and looked at Tuvok and Chakotay both. "Which one of you is dispatched to take me to my own private Elba?"

They stood staring and then Chakotay spoke. "Neither of us," he said, turning and nodding to Gregor Ayala and a Maquis crewman. "Take her."

She stood as the barrier fell and with immense dignity walked away from the room with the two guards. In less than ten minutes she was placed in a twenty by ten foot cell where she would be kept pending disposition. Chakotay stared after her until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and met Tom's eyes. "You need someone to take care of your nose, Chakotay."

For a moment he just stared at Tom and then he grinned. "I'll be sorry to see your spots go," he said, watching as Tom walked to toward the lab. "I've sort of grown used to them."

Tom grinned and shrugged. "Easy come, easy go."

He disappeared from sight, the EMH trailing. Julian Bashir materialized at his side. "Captain, I can remove your nose ridges if you're ready."

Chakotay took a deep cleansing breath and turned to the tall dark-eyed man. Nodding his head, he grinned in spite of himself. Moving toward the surgical theater, he turned his head, a smile on his face. "Dr. Bashir, I was *born* ready."

=0=


	8. Chapter 8

=0=

Book Eight: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Sick Bay, Crazy Horse...

Chakotay looked into the lab, noting that Tom was lying on his stomach on a diagnostic bed naked as the day he was born. Julian was sitting on a chair next to him, working with a lightly buzzing instrument as he removed the spots he had so painstakingly applied days before.

He paused, swallowing hard. Tom was talking quietly, relaxing as Julian moved the instrument, wiping each spot off with a white cloth as he moved up Tom's leg. Tom's ass called to him, the soft white skin luscious to his eyes. He touched his nose absently, the ridges gone. It felt strange with them and stranger without them.

He leaned against the doorjamb, noting the juxtaposition of dark markings against pale skin. He remembered the lift, kneeling behind Tom, squeezing the firm flesh of his butt in his fingers. The small line of spots that disappeared into the crack of his ass was something he wanted to trace with his tongue and just thinking about it made his cock twitch.

They danced around their attraction, wanting and longing to touch each other and tasting just enough sweet honey in stolen moments to make him restless. He felt light headed when he touched Tom, the sense of rightness that filled him nearly overwhelming. A lot had changed in a short time, he wondered how much the Vedek's conditioning had affected him, and to what extent it would continue to do so.

It had he knew. He was able to return to a part of himself he had laid aside when they joined Voyager, a facet of his personality that made it possible to make hard decisions, even order brutality because it was what he had to do. The Maquis had less latitude, less designated personnel to handle the 'wet work' and so he had to do a lot of things that he could never had believed himself capable of. It was made easier at the time by the supposed murder of his father by the Cardassians. A lie, he thought. A big, cold lie.

So be it, he thought. He could play hardball too. His eyes caught a movement, Tom turning on his side slightly, his ass shifting, the muscles flexing. He felt a surge of lust course through him, the desire to be the cause of Tom's movements pulsing through him. He sighed soundlessly, shifting slightly himself. Tom was a banquet to his eyes and he feasted on his form until Bashir looked up, startled to see him there. Tom glanced back over his shoulder, grinning at the spectacle of his commander in the doorway.

"Comm-, I mean, Captain," Julian stuttered.

"Dr. Bashir," Chakotay replied softly, moving into the room to stand next to the biobed. "You do good work."

Julian's eyes flickered toward Tom, who lay on his stomach, his chin resting on his crossed arms. He was smiling, a slight red cast to his face. "If there's something I can do for you, Captain?" Julian proffered.

"No actually, you're doing just fine," Chakotay said, his eyes roving slowly over Tom's supine form. "How are you removing the spots?"

"With this device. It changes the ... the coloration into a liquid form that I'm wiping off with this cloth."

"Maybe you'd like to handle the spots on my ass, Chakotay?" Tom said, grinning broadly at Julian's discomfort. "Show him, Julian."

For a moment Julian just sat and then he rose and handed the small slim pen-like device to his Captain. Chakotay looked at it and then pointed it at the row of spots about midway down Tom's back. A light beamed on them and they began to liquefy, beading up on his skin.

Chakotay reached for a cloth and stroked the soft skin, wiping the black marks off. Chakotay smiled and moved the light farther down, moving toward the thin line that disappeared into Tom's cleft. Wiping the dye away, he moved further and further down into the small of Tom's back and upward, moving toward the divide of his cheeks. He paused and sighed, moving closer. Bending down, he moved the beam closer and closer until it slid into the shadow of his cleft. He took a cloth and slipped it along, down into the crack where he wiped the dye away.

Tom laid still, the gentle touch he craved moving toward the place that he craved to feel it. Chakotay was silent as was Julian and the tension in the room was such that he could taste the electricity. He wished they were alone, wishing they could be together and then Chakotay paused, moving his hands away. He peered back over his shoulder and threw Chakotay a questioning look. "No more spots, Tom," he said, meeting Tom's glance with a smoldering look of his own. "No more ..." He sighed dramatically and then rested his free hand on Tom's ass. Turning his gaze to Julian Bashir, he handed the device back. "Thanks."

Julian nodded, watching as Chakotay squeezed Tom's ass, patting it gently. Without a sound, he turned and walked out the door, a slight triumphal grin on his face. Julian watched him and turned to Tom, staring into Tom's bemused eyes. "I thought you were married?" he said, finally finding his voice.

"So did I," Tom replied cryptically, closing his eyes once more.

Julian stared at him a moment and then sighed, turning to his job once more.

**********On the planetside...

Chakotay walked with his brothers through dozens of people shouting their congratulations. The news had traveled fast and crowds had formed to watch the off load of prisoners and the general hooplah. They threaded through the jubilant throngs, hugs and handshakes the order of the day. Chakotay felt a burden lifting, the joy surrounding him dulling the strain of their ordeal. They jumped into a vehicle and drove off slowly, waving and talking to people as they edged toward the road and the base beyond. It was hot and sunny and by the time they arrived Chakotay was feeling a lot better.

They climbed out and walked inside, pausing to talk to people who were nearly beside themselves with joy. Walking into Bey's office, they closed the door and all the noise beyond faded. Bey turned and pulled open a drawer, pulling a bottle free. He filled three glasses with dark liquid and raised his own. "To success."

Chakotay smiled and they all three clicked their glasses, drinking the powerful wine slowly. Chakotay sat, suddenly weary and sighed deeply as he rubbed his face with his hand.

"You look beat."

Chakotay nodded to Nayib, who sat down beside him, looking at him with his dark eyes.

"You really surprised us. We were stunned at the news of Sorrel Bay. We expected maybe a freighter or something."

"We shouldn't have been able to take her. We ignited plasma to get away from her coming out of the minefield nebula. It exploded harder and bigger than we intended."

They nodded.

"No matter how you got her, we're glad you did. It's a blow to their pride," Nayib said.

"I hope they don't invade us to assuage their pride or embarrassment," Chakotay said, sipping his wine.

"They would pay in spades if they did," Bey said. "They can't afford war fatigue yet. If they came into our turf and took the kind of casualties they would incur there would be no way to hide the losses and people would scream to settle."

"We have to consider what to do about the prison. We'll analyze your information. Take a day off and relax and we'll get together. We're forming a deep cover network inside the Federation. There are people in the lower echelons of Star Fleet that have grown disillusioned about the way things are going. We're going to use them to collect any kind of detail that we don't have already. We're also working to co-opt upper echelon figures in the government and Star Fleet as well, people with secrets to hide."

"The camp is pretty solid and secure, Bey. One side in particular is strongly defended but the desert sides are more open. They're covered but not as strongly. It would be hard to sneak up on the place."

"We'll work it out. We have someone funneling us maps that are not part of the public domain and the camp's routine schedules. Apparently, they work all morning and then relax at noon. When the sun goes the other way then they go back out and work. All in all, we'll get more information."

Chakotay nodded. "Okay. Just tell me what we're supposed to do."

"Go and relax. Eat something good, be with Tabor. Meet us at the shindig that's going on at the Starling."

"When will you be there?" Chakotay asked.

"Probably about nine o'clock," Bey said, rising. He took his glass to the recycler and dumped it. Stretching, he turned and put his hands on his hips, staring at Chakotay. "I'm so glad you made it home. You amaze me sometimes."

Chakotay grinned and rose, walking to the recycler. He put his glass into the recycler, turning and patting his brother on the stomach. "I missed you too."

Bey nodded, his eyes shining. "Go. Play. Relax. Come by tonight."

Chakotay nodded and turned, grinning at his brother. "You coming too?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Chakotay."

Chakotay nodded and walked to the door, exiting into the hallway. The door slipped shut and the two looked at each other. Nayib moved to the desk and commed security.

"Doyle here."

"Danny, bring the prisoner to the interrogation room. Let Marika know we're beginning."

"Done," Doyle said, signing off.

Bey turned and shut off his terminal, turning and walking to the doorway. They both stepped out and walked down the hallway, taking the stairs at the end of the corridor. They walked down and noted as they stepped into the second floor hallway that the prisoner was walking toward them. They turned into a room, entering together and then took a chair. They didn't rise when the prisoner arrived, staring without expression for a moment or two. Bey rose, his eyes devoid of emotion. He took his chair and put it down loudly, gesturing for the prisoner to sit. "Sit down."

The prisoner waited a second and then sat, composed and still.

"We need to ask you a few questions," Bey said. "We want full and complete answers."

"I am not required to do that," the prisoner said.

"No, you don't have to. You don't *have* to do *anything*.

However, I want you to know that we will ask and if you refuse to cooperate we have other means as well."

At that moment Marika walked in, setting a black case on the table. She turned and waited, her medic markings making plain what those other means were. Bey took another chair and sat across from the prisoner, nearly knee to knee. He leaned in, invading the prisoner's space. "I need to know the Federation's deployment of ships for this sector of space. We know a lot but we want to know more."

The prisoner betrayed nothing, looking at the big Maquis with cold eyes. "I will never willingly tell you and as a Star Fleet officer I have been trained to resist coercion."

"Perhaps," Bey agreed, nodding to Marika.

She turned and opened the case, pulling a number of colored vials and a set of hyposprays from the cushioned insides. She held them up, checking them against the tricorder in her hand. When she was satisfied, she turned and looked at Bey. Bey looked from her to the prisoner.

"You can resist but in the end you will not prevail."

"I won't cooperate with traitors."

Bey smiled, tight and humorless. "You're a fool but you can have it your way. You should answer willingly if you were as smart as they say you are but I don't really care. I'll get what I want and you *will* tell me. No one can withstand the combination of drugs we have at our disposal. Make it easy on yourself. Tell us and we'll send you back to your cell without the bump and grind of drugs."

She sat a long time, her angry eyes set in a pale, disdainful face. She leaned back, her arms crossing over her chest in defiance. "Never," she spat. "Ever."

Bey sat a moment and then relaxed in his chair. Glancing at the two big guards by the door, he nodded. They moved forward and gripped her arms, pulling her to her feet. They dragged her struggling to the table and her jacket was pulled from her body. Pressing her down on the flat surface, one of them held her neck, pushing her face into the hard wood top. She struggled, her feet barely touching the floor as they pulled her turtleneck shirtsleeve up. Her bare arm flexed, her muscles straining futilely. A big hand gripped her arm, holding it as a hypospray was pressed against it, the soft hiss belying the potency of the truth serum that flooded her body. She stilled, her heart racing as a fog descended over her mind. She fought it but it felt as if she was detaching from her thought processes. She raised up, swaying as her will began to muddle. Strong hands turned her and guided her to her seat, sitting her down on the chair. She sat, staring at the floor, her mouth dry and her faculties slipping away.

Bey sighed and leaned forward. "You want to play it this way, we will. Now, Kathryn, tell me what the Federation's deployment of ships are in this sector."

Kathryn Janeway stared at him, seeing him from a distance in the muddle of her mind. She listened to his voice and thought she shouldn't answer. "No."

Bey sighed and sat back, noting her resistance. It would be a long, long evening ahead for them all.

*********************Elsewhere...

Chakotay lay back, showered and shaved, fresh and clean. Tabor straddled his body, leaning down to kiss him. Chakotay sighed, pulling him close as they kissed, touching Tabor's slim body with his hands. "You feel good."

"So do you," Tabor said, smiling down at his lover. He sat back, staring down at Chakotay as the older man rubbed his legs. The heat from his hands went straight to his cock and Tabor knew he would do whatever Chakotay wanted tonight. "You need to go to the party at Starlings."

"Probably," Chakotay said, closing his eyes.

"You should."

Chakotay smiled in spite of himself and looked at the handsome youngster sitting on him, rubbing his arm with his slender fingers, massaging the tight muscles. "That feels good."

"I know how to make you feel better."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Tabor said, grinning. He leaned forward, lying down on Chakotay, sliding his arms under Chakotay's shoulders. Then he rolled over and wrapped his legs around Chakotay's body. "How's that for starters."

Chakotay sighed and smiled. "Good start. What's next?"

Tabor arched against him, the delicious electricity of pleasure pulsing through both of them. "Use your imagination," he said chuckling as Chakotay groaned.

Chakotay sighed and grinned, kissing Tabor softly. "You're really asking for it now," he said.

"I hope so," Tabor said. "I certainly hope so, *big talker*."

Chakotay smiled and then they didn't talk anymore.

=0=

Book Eight: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

About the same time...

Tom walked down the street, semi-anonymous and silent. All around him the town rocked with energy, celebrating the capture of the Sorrel Bay. People thronged the streets, Maquis in uniform and people in civvies. Men and women were together, talking and laughing, moving around him like he was a solid rock in some babbling stream. He crossed an intersection, moving past backed up ground cars toward the bar scene ahead. As he did, he spotted a familiar face, long red hair and beautiful legs. He smiled as she noted him too, turning to wait as he approached. "Hello, flyboy, come to pay me a visit?"

He smiled, sighing over her exotic beauty and shrugged. "I don't know. I *was* heading to the Maquis blow out at the Starling."

"Blow out, huh?" she said, moving closer. She wore black this time, all black silk which set off her pale skin beautifully. Her cleavage spilled prettily out of a black bustier and her too red lips glistened. "If you want a private ... blow out ... you *know* you can count on me."

Tom snorted and smiled. "I know."

"So are we going to have a private party? Just you and me?"

Tom smiled and sighed. "I have to make an appearance. When I'm done ..."

She pouted prettily. "Well, don't take too long." She leaned in and kissed him softly. "I'll be here for only a little while."

He nodded and patted her bottom. "Thanks, Oola." He turned and continued on, dark alien eyes watching him as he disappeared into the crowd. She sighed and turned, moving to stand by her favorite bistro. If she didn't get business, she could always get a drink.

**********Starlings...

The party was going strong as the bar was thronged with Maquis from the town, from ships and allies. In a corner, nursing a beer, Harry Kim waited for Tom. They had agreed to come together but Tom was called away for a moment. He had come down here by himself, the idea of frequenting a bar filled with Maquis and their sympathizers unnerving but he came anyway. Sitting and nursing a beer, he watched people dance and talk and celebrate. They were celebrating the defeat of the Federation, his Federation. It was odd to love something and not be loved back. The door opened and he noted that Nayib had entered, hugging and joking with people all the way to the bar. Harry noted the big man's beauty, more rugged than Chakotay's and more expressive outwardly. He moved with confidence and poise, a man comfortable in his own skin. Nayib walked to the bar and ordered a beer, sipping it as he checked his wrist chronometer. As Harry looked up, he noted that Tom had entered standing quietly as he scanned the crowd. He flashed on earlier times when Tom was fair game for Maquis passions and his life was endangered. The feeling that arose in him was discordant and he pushed it back ruthlessly. Old trails filled with that much heartache were better left untraveled.

Tom walked across the room, moving to the bar where he squeezed in, facing Nayib. Nayib grinned and leaned in, whispering into Tom's ear. Tom grinned and nodded, apparently filled with amusement over what Nayib had said to him. Their faces were very close and the crowd very thick around them. He couldn't be sure but he could have sworn that Nayib leaned forward and kissed Tom on the lips. It surprised him, the intimacy of it and he turned in his chair to watch. Tom was leaning in close, his beer in his hands and they were talking like lovers. Nayib's hand reached out and brushed Tom's cheek. It was gentle and Harry swallowed. As he did he glanced to one side and noted that B'Elanna had walked into the bar.

She stepped in and walked to a number of people who stood together talking. They greeted her joyfully and they talked, arms around each other and happiness on their faces. He glanced at Tom and noted that he hadn't seen her so intent was he in his conversation with Nayib. He didn't know what to do. Sitting and watching them, Harry felt helpless. Then, glancing backward at a man laughing, Tom spotted B'Elanna. His face became stilled, the laughter and pleasure fading as he watched her. He stiffened, setting his beer down. Nayib took hold of Tom's arm, stilling him as they whispered together.

Tom sighed and then nodded, turning as he did. Awkwardly, tensely, he walked to where B'Elanna stood, tapping her on the shoulder. She was laughing and turned, her face becoming stilled upon sight of her husband. Tom spoke and she listened, nodding reluctantly. She turned and they walked to stand by the door. She crossed her arms, uncomfortable and tense as he gathered himself to talk. Harry felt terrible, sitting and watching two friends struggle to reconnect. They had always had a volatile relationship but since their marriage had become more companionable, especially Tom.

Sure, he had his hobbies and interests and she had hers. Yet, in spite of the differences he thought they had found commonalities, bridges built from the love he *knew* they felt for each other. But that was before the Vedek. That was before the Maquis rose from the grave. That was before the terrible hurt and suicidal rage she had never really dealt with became aroused by the evidence of duplicity. She had never taken her fury and self-abuse and worked them out. Sure, she and Chakotay had talked and he had helped her work some of it out. But it had never been properly addressed and excised from her psyche.

It was still there and he figured between the truth meeting them at their return and the Vedek curse, she had been damaged. The focus of vengeance and need to help with a cause that had burned in her mind and soul as lost had squeezed out most of what had made her one of his closest friends. They no longer talked or hung out, they no longer really spoke. The Cause was all. Even more important, it appeared to be more central to her than her marriage and friendship with Tom.

They were talking and B'Elanna didn't appear to be giving ground. Tom looked distressed, upset and frustrated. She appeared to be indifferent. For a long time they whispered agitatedly, their voices unheard over the din, and then Tom turned and walked out the door. She stood there, arms folded and eyes on the door for a moment or two, then drew herself up, rejoining her friends. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head in frustration. With gathering resolve, he rose and walked across the bar to the door to find Tom. As he did, the door opened and Tuvok strode inside.

"Tuvok," Harry said, surprised to see the Vulcan in a bar celebrating a defeat of the Federation at Maquis hands.

"Mr. Kim," he said evenly.

"Are you here to meet someone?" Harry asked.

Tuvok met his eyes levelly. "I do not wish to be alone tonight."

Harry stood silently a moment and then relaxed, turning and nodding to the table he had vacated.

"Would you care for company?" he asked.

Tuvok hesitated and then nodded. "I would."

"Good," Harry said, turning and letting Tuvok pass. He glanced at the door and sighed, turning and following Tuvok to the table and sitting. The waiter took their order and they sat, silent and companionable.

"You look distressed, Tuvok. For a Vulcan."

Tuvok glanced up, a rueful look on his face. "I could blame it on the Vedek but it has more to do with my son, Sek."

Harry sighed deeply, more than aware of Tuvok's son's situation.

"You never spoke of him, Tuvok. What's he like?"

Tuvok thought a moment, visions of a baby and a small boy filling his head. His son, his beloved Sek came to him and he felt filled with anguish, so far apart they were. "My son is a musician," Tuvok began, slowly and quietly starting the tale of his son and his own wonderful life as a father.

**********On the street outside of Starling...

They walked along the street heading for the celebration that everyone said was going on at the large bar near the center of the town. As they approached the door it opened and a tall blond walked out, moving past them to the street beyond. They paused, taking note of who it was. He walked toward a woman, a prostitute probably and the two talked. After a moment, they turned and walked away together.

Kira glanced at Julian, noting the strange look on the his face. "Who is that?"

"Tom Paris," he replied turning and walking inside. Miles O'Brien and Kira-Nerys followed, entering the raucous place, moving through the crowd to a table near the bar. They sat and ordered, feeling like fish out of water. All around them circulated the enemy and even though they had thrown in their lot with them, they felt odd.

At that moment the door opened again and their captain walkedin followed closely by a handsome dark-haired Bajoran. Kira noted him, measuring him against her rolodex memory and deduced he had to be Tabor, a long-time Maquis, original crew from the original Crazy Horse.

Chakotay stood at the bar, talking to his brother. He turned and pulled Tabor close to him, the two of them leaning on the bar as they talked beers in hand. Kira leaned back, noting the two brother's similarities. There was one more that she knew of and she glanced around looking for him. She couldn't see him but she knew about him well. Everyone did. He *was* the Maquis, the brains of the organization and someone that the Federation would *kill* to get their hands on.

"Did you ever believe we would be here in this kind of place, celebrating the defeat of Star Fleet?" Miles asked, glancing around.

"It beats the thought of a prison camp for ten years. I don't see this ending any time soon, do you?" Julian asked.

"No," Kira replied. "Not at all."

"Why did you agree to join them?" Miles asked, curious about Kira's motivations.

She thought a moment and shrugged. "I don't know. It's morethan a choice between this and prison. I ... I've talked to some of the Bajoran Maquis since capture and I find myself interested in their situation. They joined for revenge and safety and found a home. All of these people did. These are just ordinary people, nothing more or less. They were cut loose from the Federation, just tossed aside like they were nothing. The Cardassians hurt them just like they hurt me. I find myself drawn to them that's all. Why did you? You're Star Fleet."

Miles shrugged. "I'm also Irish. I have a genetic predisposition for being on the side of the underdogs."

"Underdogs," Julian snorted. "I don't think you can call them that now. They *did* take our ship."

"Maybe," Kira said, sipping her beer. "The trick is not taking the first ship but taking the next ten or eleven."

The door opened and a big and familiar man walked in. Beyvahl of Dorvan V drew all eyes and the sound of applause and laughing filled the room. He laughed and hugged his way to the bar and joined his two brothers. After a moment, Tabor walked to the dance floor with Nayib, towed by the big man like a little boat. They began to sway to the music and the two men at the bar turned to each other to talk head to head. Nayib slipped his arms around Tabor, pulling him close. "You feel good. I don't usually fall in love with men as short as you are but frankly, Tabor, it's like my mother always said: 'Dynamite comes in small packages, Nayib, my favorite son'."

Tabor laughed and smiled, staring up into Nayib's dark eyes. "You're her favorite son?"

"Probably. I think though that whoever was standing next to her was her favorite at the moment."

Tabor smiled, shaking his head. "You aren't in love with me."

"I am. I seldom say outloud what I feel so deeply in my heart. You know, it isn't easy being the middle son of two men like Chakotay and Beyvahl. Even though I'm considered gifted in my own right, it's easy to get overshadowed."

"Sounds lonely," Tabor said, warming to Nayib's bullshit.

Nayib grinned broadly. "You *understand*. Do you know how long I've been *waiting* to find a man who understands the depth of my *loneliness*, my *pain and my needs*?"

Tabor snorted and laughed out loud. "You're as full of shit as I was told."

"Who told you?" Nayib asked, a slight mock frown crossing his face.

"A little birdie," Tabor said, tightening his grip around Nayib's neck.

Nayib pulled him close and they swayed together. Bey glanced at them and grinned. "I think Nubby's putting moves on your lover."

Chakotay glanced at them and sighed. "He's incorrigible. He demanded first refusal on Tabor."

"You're not going to be together any longer?" Bey asked curiously.

Chakotay shrugged. "I love Tabor. He's more than good. But I've got an old fixation."

"Tom Paris."

Chakotay nodded, shaking his head with embarrassment.

"As I understand it Tom Paris is married. To your almost daughter, B'Elanna Torres if the grapevine is correct. *You* on the other hand are having a very warm and decent affair with Tabor of Bajor."

Chakotay shook his head ruefully. "I never said I was in my right mind."

"Well, you have good company. Nayib wants to fuck your boy friend in the worst way."

Chakotay snorted, staring over his shoulder with bemusement. "He likes Tabor a lot."

"Tabor is a good man. Tell me about Paris."

Chakotay stared at his brother. "He's married. End of story."

"Oh that it was," Bey said, staring levelly at his brother.

Chakotay stared at his beer, filling with misery. "There's no time for personal matters now. Maybe later on things can get sorted out. It comes down to Tom and B'Elanna. I won't influence him about that. He has to come to his own final decision."

"Have you slept with him?" Bey asked.

Chakotay sighed. "No. But I've touched him."

Bey nodded. "You have it bad, brother, but don't forget that there are a lot of people here who can get hurt if you don't act like a man."

Chakotay looked at his brother. "I haven't forgotten. Not for a minute. Mostly."

Bey nodded and patted Chakotay's arm. He turned and finished his beer, weary down to his bones from the evening he had put in. Janeway had been tough, resistant and obstinate. However, in the end he got what he needed. She had given ground grudgingly but she had given nonetheless.

"This is the last injection, Bey," Marika said as she pressed the hypo against the supine woman's neck. She was lying on a couch, her ankles bound. She had resisted but the combination of drugs had been more than her training and mental conditioning had been able to overcome.

"We want more information about this sector. I'm going to have a draftsman listen and you will tell us everything. You will answer each question fully and to the best of your ability."

"No," she said fretfully, her face covered with a sheen of sweat. Even as she said no she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep them from her secrets and her knowledge.

Marika nodded, noting with her tricorder that Janeway was at her peak for disclosure. For three hours he sat and asked questions, each answer charted and recorded. She gave them everything she knew, all the ships and their routes, all the ports and their security designations, every leader and the hierarchy that they functioned in. In the end she gave them everything she knew.

Bey stood finally and stretched, noting that she had fallen into a sleep that would persist for more than thirty hours. When she awoke she wouldn't remember this interlude. The purity of the drug's effectiveness was in the cloaking of the mind it gave to the victim. They wouldn't know they had talked.

Ever.

"Take care of her, Marika. Put her back in her cell."

The medic nodded and moved to the woman lying on the couch. With the aid of two guards, they carried her out and away to her jail cell. Soon he would join his brothers and they would forget this side of their existence for a few hours. Turning off the light, he walked to the door and onward to his brother's company.

**********In a hotel room near Starling...

He sighed, Oola's talented tongue making short work of his cock. She had incredible versatility, sucking him into an aching erection. He stroked her hair, moving restlessly as she made him happy. Her naked body gleamed in the light of candles, her long hair spreading like a red tide over her back. She paused and looked at him, pleased with his contentment. Moving carefully, she straddled him, guiding him into her body as she did. He groaned, his hands rising to touch her breasts, squeezing them as she began to move on him. Her hair swung, moving with her rhythm as she rode him toward climax. He moaned and groaned, glancing at her through the haze of his rising orgasm. She looked at him, knowing full well that two Maquis were recording every single word, every sound, every whispered moan. It made her hard to think of it, she thought, as she bent down, her own cock in hand, and began to bring her Tommy boy off in earnest.

=0=

Book Eight: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

Infirmary, Prison Camp Two...

Wesley Crusher stood up, a slight dizziness filling his head. His hands were wrapped in healing bandages and his face felt hot from regenerating skin. He had been burned, one of the most seriously injured of the Sorrel Bay and thus had spent more time in the infirmary than anyone else from that ship. He was only slightly clear about what happened, completely clear that he wasn't on the ship and very fuzzy about what was happening now. A guard walked over and took his arm, turning him to the door. He didn't resist, that seeming futile to him even in his present condition, and he walked out the door and down the hallway to a long series of security checks and heavy locked doors. He entered an open space and was left alone, the guard walking back out to the corridor they just traversed and he stood a moment, dazed and confused. Then he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and looked into the relieved eyes of Geordi LeForge. "Wes, are you all right?"

"I don't ... I guess so. What happened? Where are we?"

"We're in jail, Wes," Geordi said grimly. "Come on. I'll fill you in." Taking Wes's arm, they turned and walked across the open yard to a barracks beyond.

**********Elsewhere, at the same time...

Tom stepped out onto the street again, his tension somewhat assuaged. Oola had been fun, talking to her a balm on his battered spirit. B'Elanna had been unreceptive. No, that wasn't the word for it. She had been a blank wall and then she had given him some small clue to her distance.

"Your father is Owen Paris. Your father is responsible for the lie."

Tom had stood there, rooted to the floor in disconcerted surprise and then he turned, hurrying out. He had spotted Oola and had gone for her, agreeing to sex and then having it. It had been a mutual fuck, him on her and her on him. He ached in all the right places and he felt a tiny lifting of his overall smashed feelings. He didn't know what to do with B'Elanna. He didn't know how to surmount this hurdle, his father and his job. It had been something he had carried like a cross all of his life and he thought that of all the people who knew him, B'Elanna would know that best. He thought about how she had urged him to think good thoughts of his father, how she had worked on his encrusted distrust telling him to believe that his father was proud of him. He had made that leap finally, hearing his father tell him over the link that he was proud of him merely frosting on the cake of his growing emotional equilibrium.

That had been one of those moments that if asked about it years later you could describe it perfectly, what you were wearing, who was there. It was a deep moment for him. She had been ecstatic, filled with pleasure for him and they had celebrated privately later. Now she hated him, blaming him for his father's decisions as a Star Fleet officer. It had been overwhelming. It had been as painful for him as any event his father ever incurred against him and he had turned and walked, unable at that moment to think of words that might turn it all away. He wasn't responsible for what his father decided. He couldn't be. They had so few bridges, such little common ground. He was a pawn too, someone to be moved around the chess board by powerful men. He had been hurt too and now his father had hurt him again. He had been a factor in the collapse of his marriage. At that moment he felt alone, more alone than he had ever felt in the Delta. He couldn't join the people who had taken him in. B'Elanna might still be there. He didn't want to go back to the ship. His cabin was cold and empty. He had no one to turn to so he stood in the light of the streetlight. He stood in the late night waiting for something. He didn't know what it was. He just knew he had no place else to go.

***********Starlings...

Bey finished his beer and turned to his brothers. "I have things to finish up. What are you two reprobates going to do?"

Chakotay grinned, noting that Nayib's smile meant an all nighter.

"I have a lot of work to do," Chakotay said. "I'd like to do a quick tour of Sorrel Bay if you don't mind."

"I don't. When do you plan to sleep?" Bey asked.

"Maybe on the Sorrel. I'm curious at the improvements on this class of ship over the course of the last seven years."

Bey nodded, glancing at Nayib who stood, his arm around Tabor's shoulders.

"I was thinking, if Chakotay doesn't mind, about dancing and dining and generally carousing with Tabor here."

Chakotay grinned and looked at his lover.

"You can go ahead, Chakotay. I'll keep Nayib out of jail. I'll catch you at the cabin in the morning."

Chakotay nodded, smiling at the two of them and turned, setting his glass on the bar.

"Ready to go?"

Bey nodded and the two men stepped into the crowd, making their way to the door. They exited, breathing deeply the warm air.

"I think Nayib's going to put the moves on Tabor," Bey said.

"Probably," Chakotay said, shaking his head. "I wish I could get mad at him."

"No one can. Well, maybe Star Fleet but anyone else?" Bey said, shrugging good-naturedly. He turned and paused, noting a tall figure leaning against a light pole. "There's Tom Paris."

Chakotay turned and looked, noting the tall man's presence. He looked weary and lonely. Chakotay felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back and met dark eyes.

"Go," Bey said. "Talk to him. He looks like he could use a friend."

"You?"

"I'm going to bed. Alone," Bey said, grinning. Then his face got serious. "Remember your responsibilities, brother."

Chakotay nodded and watched as Bey walked to a ground car. Several Maquis stepped aside and let him in, the car driving off toward the command center. He turned and stepped into the street, weaving through slow moving cars until he reached the other side. He felt Tom's gaze, his sad blue eyes watching him as he came close. He stopped in front of Tom, waiting. The younger man stood straighter and then stepped forward, slipping his arms around Chakotay's neck. They embraced, holding each other tightly.

"Where are you going?" Tom whispered.

"I was going to the Sorrel Bay," Chakotay replied softly. "Come with me?"

Tom sighed and nodded, stepping back. Chakotay tapped his com badge.

"Sorrel Bay, two to beam up."

"Affirmative."

Then they shimmered and disappeared into thin air.

**********Sorrel Bay...

They materialized on the Bridge, the sound of work crews and the smell of burnt circuitry meeting them immediately. They stood slowly turning, their eyes taking in the familiarly unfamiliar bridge of this newer ship. Chakotay squeezed Tom's arm, moving toward what should be the Ready Room. Tom followed, entering with Chakotay Janeway's private inner sanctum. It was spacious and more luxurious than Voyager was, filled with comforts and a few of Janeway's personal items. Chakotay walked to her desk, picking up a picture cube. It had images of her family and her dog.

"She has a new dog," Chakotay said.

"Not much of her in here. Seems less like *her* if you know what I mean."

Chakotay nodded, turning to Tom. "What do you think, Tom, about what's happened?"

Tom shrugged. "Fortunes of war, Chakotay. What can we do? Go to prison?"

"Not that part. *This* part. Janeway."

Tom looked at him and then turned, walking to the window. "I feel ... bad."

Chakotay nodded and walked to him, resting his hands on Tom's shoulders. "She told me that my father was evil. That he lied to all of us and she could never forgive me."

"Who?" Chakotay asked, knowing all ready.

"B'Elanna," Tom said, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"She blames me for all of this, for the lies about the Maquis being destroyed, for everything apparently."

Chakotay stepped closer, slipping his arms around Tom's shoulders, pulling him close. He sighed with Tom relaxed, his body falling into Chakotay's embrace. "You aren't."

"Tell *her* that," Tom said. He turned his head, his cheek rubbing softly against Chakotay's. "You never told me anything."

Tom turned and walked a step away, turning again and regarding Chakotay with reproachful, emotional eyes. "Not a word."

"You never seemed near enough."

"We had *missions* together, we were on the same shift. You never betrayed a glance or ... or a single word."

Chakotay stepped closer, stopping beside Tom, his eyes fastened on the scene beyond the window. "You never indicated one iota of interest in me that way."

"I never *knew* you were interested in men. You were always alone or pursuing someone who would never love you."

Chakotay turned to him, regarding Tom with his intense gaze. "One word from you and I would have been there. One glance, one small fleeting hint, Tom, and I would have been there."

"We're fools, you and I. You wanted Janeway and she couldn't give you what you wanted. I wanted B'Elanna and she won't let me near her. What now, Chakotay? What are we supposed to do now?"

"My brother tells me I have to act like a man. He tells me that I have a responsibility to others not to hurt anyone." Chakotay turned and leaned against the curved window. "I'm sick of responsibility," he whispered, his voice soft with want.

Tom stepped closer, touching Chakotay's cheek with his hand. "We're awful fools aren't we?"

Chakotay nodded, rubbing his cheek against Tom's soft touch. "I want you. I want to make love to you. It's been a ... a need of mine for so long."

"Your life belongs to me, Chakotay. It still does."

"I know. You tell me what you want, Tom, and I'll do it. Tell me what you need."

Tom stepped forward, his eyes filled with emotion, his lips nearly touching Chakotay's. "I want *you*." He closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I can't have you can I..."

"I don't know," Chakotay said, brushing the tear away. "You already do. For the rest of my life, I'm yours."

Tom looked at him, nodding. "I know." He swallowed hard, struggling with his sorrow. "Hold me."

Chakotay reached for him, pulling him into an embrace and they stood together, swaying and holding each other for a long time.

**********In a cabin on Voyager...

Tuvok put out the lamp and rose, putting it on his windowsill. Turning, he walked to his bedroom, taking off his robe. He pulled the covers back and slid into his bed wearily. He felt all of his years, the pressure to do battle for the Maquis coupled with his fears for his son making him tired beyond normal. He wasn't an old man but he wasn't young. In this period of his life he was at his prime. He could work for days and still be fine. But the toll of his worries, his longing for his son and wife were making themselves felt. It had felt good to talk to Harry, telling of his son and his accomplishments. Sek had filled him in on a lot of details over the year they had been receiving letters but now he felt he couldn't trust the transmissions. Were they as false as others? He knew Sek was in prison. That had been confirmed. However, the other things he couldn't know if they were lies or truth. It made it all worse. Even though he didn't outwardly show his joy over getting mail from home he had felt it. His wife's calm but oddly passionate voice, his children, his grandchildren ... was he *really* a grandfather? He couldn't be sure. It was agonizing. Meditation was a small comfort for the uncertainty that filled him everyday. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Hopefully it would be free of dreams of his family just this once.

**********Captain's Ready Room, Sorrel Bay...

They lay together on the broad couch that was set in a corner of the room, surrounded by big windows. Tom nearly covered him, his lanky form burrowed into Chakotay's own body. Chakotay felt comforted, the warmth of the other man something he craved for his own well being. The obsession of need that filled him constantly was assuaged for the moment by this contact. "You're taller than me but I seldom feel the difference."

"It's your towering personality," Tom replied, grinning. His hand slid upward, slipping inside Chakotay's shirt. He caressed a nipple, feeling it bud up almost immediately. Tom patted Chakotay's chest gently. "You feel good."

"So do you." Chakotay tightened his arm around Tom's body, holding him closer. His libido was rising but he didn't act. He had a lot of guilt on him and he struggled with it. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I hate divorce. I didn't think that we would ever split up. We were friends."

The wistful sound of Tom's voice pierced Chakotay's heart and he patted Tom. "I'm sorry."

"You say that a lot."

"I mean it," Chakotay replied, kissing Tom's forehead.

"I know," Tom sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"It's all right," Chakotay replied. "Think on it. You aren't under a timeline or something."

"What about you? I never asked. You never were married were you?"

"To Star Fleet. To my career."

"Just my luck. Two captains who were career sluts. You know, I love to fly and all but I don't think I would put it over all the rest."

"There's nothing at the end of the day if you do," Chakotay said. "I thought I wanted Kathryn. She was so unattainable that I was ... challenged."

Tom chuckled. "You like hopeless causes."

"I'm Maquis aren't I?"

Tom sighed deeply. "If I have to go to hell with someone over something, I'm glad I'll be going there with you."

"You won't go there, Tom. We've already been there," Chakotay replied, grinning broadly.

"That's true. I have to tell you that I was surprised that Lucifer was a Borg."

Chakotay snorted and moved, rolling Tom over until they could see eye to eye. "No matter what happens, know I love you," Chakotay said, leaning in and kissing Tom on the lips. Tom moved closer, kissing Chakotay back emotionally.

"I know," Tom whispered. "I love you too."

Chakotay nodded and moved back over, pulling Tom back into his arms. The lights were out and the starlight beyond was their only illumination. They lay together, entwined in the silence and soon they fell into sleep. Outside, working through the endless night, crews made repairs on the Sorrel Bay.

=0=

Book Eight: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

They cruised along the DMZ, far removed from the nebula and the minefield. It was morning and Jean-Luc Picard sat at his table, eating breakfast and reviewing the gamma shift's reports when the message came in. He rose and walked to his desk, putting in the codes that would open the intensely encrypted message from Star Fleet Command. He sat and listened to the recorded message, flinching with surprise at some of the content. He played it again and then once more before rising and walking to his bathroom. He splashed his face and dried it, pulling together his scattered thoughts. Then, with effort, he made his call. "Picard to Crusher."

"Crusher here."

Her soft voice filled his rooms for a moment then he spoke again. "Doctor, would you please report to my cabin at once?"

"On my way. Crusher out."

"Picard to Troi."

"Troi here."

"Please report to my cabin immediately. I believe we shall be in need of your services."

"On my way."

Picard turned and stared at his half-eaten breakfast. He sighed and dumped it, turning and waiting for his guests. The door chimed and he called entrance. Almost together, Deanna Troi and Beverly Crusher walked into the room.

"You wanted to see us?" Beverly asked.

"Yes, please ... sit down ..."

**********At Maquis HQ...

Bey studied the map schemata, sent to them through the underground. They had friends in numerous places, friends with great clearances and not much risk in getting caught searching for and procuring what the Maquis needed in the vastness of the Federation apparatus. Several assistants went through the diagrams, labeling and working out the placements of people in the Federation camp at the historical Air Force base commonly referred to as Area 54.

"They use scanners that act on a pulse methodology. They send out a beam on a rotating basis that flashes across a long straight surface of the desert on these three sides that detects what's out there and returns data to the main computer. It analyzes what the target is and compares it against what should be there. If it should be there it won't react. If it shouldn't, commandos will swarm."

Bey looked at his science officers and nodded. "So, if we can send back profiles of say, antelope, the computer wouldn't react to us?"

"Yes," T'Pon said. He considered the situation a moment.

"I would say if we can mask our signatures and reflect something noted as typical for the desert then we can make an assault on this side of the camp where it is not as heavily fortified."

"All right, say we do that and make it to the mine field that defends three sides of the camp. What then?"

"We will have to find a way to detect them, neutralize them or fly over them. The camp itself relies on the minefield. Schemata does not indicate that there are more devices designed to keep people in or out. There are towers after that will line of sight guardians. After that, you must pass through the small collection of housing that stands between you and the barracks beyond."

"Those barracks, how are they guarded?"

"Electronic barriers. All we have to do is find their frequency, match ourselves to it and walk through. That is the way we are going to get the main hostages out. The rest of our time will be first to disrupt communications, set charges and blow up things and decoy our real objective: get the prisoners -as many of the fifty-six as we can from Voyager and the two that we need to rescue to the airfield."

Bey sighed. "It sounds impossible."

"Not really. Seven of Nine from the Crazy Horse is coming shortly to help us work with shield harmonics and cloaking devices. We are preparing to utilize Borg technology against the camp defenses."

Bey rose and nodded. "Very good, T'Pon. Continue and keep me informed."

He turned and walked out the door, heading for his office. Entering, he smiled as he saw Nayib working on things of his own. "How was it?" Bey asked.

"Wonderful," Nayib replied, looking up from his pile of work. "Tabor is a great guy. I want to do him so badly my eyes cross."

"I take it then that you did the honorable thing?"

Nayib glanced up with a slight frown on his face. "Did you doubt otherwise? If you want I'll drop my pants and you can see for yourself my blue balls."

Bey snickered, picking up padds from operatives to review their reports. "I trust you. It's your dick I don't trust."

Nayib snorted, then noted Bey's frown. "What?"

Bey sighed and sat, shaking his head. "Tom. He saw Oola last night."

Nayib thought a moment. "She is a looker and he's fucked up."

"Yeah, I know. He's fucked up in the middle of a bigger fuck up. Talk to him and explain about her. I don't want him hurt or stirred into some avoidable shit."

"I will," Nayib said, sighing at his own pile of work. "Have you seen them? Chakotay wasn't home when I dropped Tabor off."

"He left with Tom, at the bar," Bey said. "He was going to Sorrel Bay."

Nayib nodded. "I'll catch up with them later."

Bey nodded, his formidable mind diving into the minutiae of running an army and soon they were lost in the load.

**********Ready Room, Sorrel Bay...

He smelled coffee, slowly rising to the light. Opening his eyes, he blinked, staring into Tom's smiling face. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and took the coffee. "Morning," he murmured, sipping the hot liquid.

"Morning," Tom replied, sitting down next to him. He turned and kissed Chakotay on the lips.

"Thanks," he said, "I needed that."

"So did I," Tom said, smiling. "Breakfast and then what? A tour?"

"Definitely," Chakotay said. "I was supposed to take it last night but I got entangled."

Tom grinned. "You did. What will happen to this crew do you think?"

"Those that join can and those that won't go to camp."

Tom shook his head. "I wonder if in a hundred years anyone will get what this was all about."

"I don't know," Chakotay said, sighing. "I'll have to ask my father. He's the historian."

"You will you know, ask him. Soon."

"God, I hope so." Chakotay replied fervently.

"Come on. Let's eat."

They rose and walked to the dining area, replicating breakfast. Turning, they sat and talked together, making the intimacy last until they had to go out and face reality head on once more.

**********San Francisco...

He sat at his desk, the picture of his son in his hands. Tom was Academy fodder then, handsome and young and straight forward. All the shit hadn't hit the fan yet. He looked like just what he was, the twelfth generation of Star Fleet officer in the Paris family.

Now ...

Tom was seen on Earth as a Trill. He had been spotted and the subsequent checks of identity taken here and there were gathered together. A black haired man with dark eyes stared out of the photos but the man behind them was his son. Of course he was older, matured in his beauty and the wisdom in his eyes reflected his experiences on Voyager. Tom was here, moving with three others identified as Harry Kim, Tuvok of Vulcan and the youngest sibling of the man he hunted daily, Chakotay. They had come here in disguise and they had left, leading the Sorrel Bay into an ambush that had taken her out of their hands. Of course, they were supposed to. The plan called for it. He had to get Janeway into their hands. It was necessary and if they had to sacrifice the Sorrel Bay then so be it. He wished they could have done it in a less expensive manner. A fabulously state of the art ship and one hundred and fifty-two crewpersons were not cheap.

However, if things went according to plan, they would be able to deliver a crippling blow to the Maquis that would make it all worthwhile. All it took was getting Janeway into Maquis hands. He remembered her coming to the office, sitting and talking to him. She had been changed, her emotions more tightly buttoned. She was ... harder and she wanted more than anything, he could tell, to redeem herself and get her old ship back. He had offered her the Sorrel Bay and she had demurred. They had dined and talked for hours, Tom and other things on their list of topics and finally she agreed. He had been happy, first step in the plan completed, and when she walked back to her transient officer's quarters she was meet by men in black clothes. They stepped from the bushes and pulled her in, drugging her against making noise. When she came to she was in a room with technicians and they were working on the mental conditioning that would allow them to feed bogus information to the nemesis of his dreams, Beyvahl of Dorvan V.

The faint rumblings they were able to detect from turncoats on the frontier were that there was a Maquis meeting coming up. Bey would be there and so would the Federation. If they could trick him into believing that the path to the meeting was open and clear then they could take him on route. He wouldn't travel large, a shuttle to fly him and they would be there. It would be worth the effort and sacrifice. No one would be able to take his place. No one had that kind of skill. He would end up in the prison in New Mexico. Or, if the rumblings were true that percolated through the grapevine, he would be executed. For that kind of crime, the Federation hard-liners were pushing for the return of execution.

Executions.

It wasn't the Federation way. It smacked of cowardice and an uncleanness that stuck to the hands. However, he was only charged with catching the Maquis, not dealing with him later. He had done his part. He had put the fox into the hen house. Now it was all in the hands of fate. Owen Paris sat the picture of his son onto his desk, the familiar pang of regret piercing him. He hoped that Tom would be the pilot that Beyvahl chose. If he was he would intervene and take him home where he belonged. He had the clout and he was owed by many. He would see what he could do.

**********Crazy Horse...

"Hi," Tabor said, noting that tall man slipping inside.

"Hi," Chakotay said, kissing Tabor on the lips. "Have a good time last night?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning broadly. "Your brother is a good man. That glib facade is just that."

"I know. He's always been fun."

Chakotay walked into the bathroom and stripped, showering, drying and dressing again in moments. Stepping out, he walked to his desk, checking the reports that lay piled there.

"How's the Sorrel Bay coming along?" Tabor asked, putting lunch on the table.

"Slow but sure. Given enough time we'll have two Intrepid-class ships running for the Maquis."

"Good," Tabor replied. "Who's going to command her?"

Chakotay paused. "I don't know." He grinned. "Harry?"

Tabor grinned. "You're mean."

"I know," Chakotay replied, leaning in for a kiss. "I take it lunch is served?"

"Yes. Sit."

They sat and began to eat.

"Tell me about Tom."

Chakotay glanced up. "You really *are* a masochist."

Tabor grinned. "Beat me."

Chakotay shook his head. "You're a wonder of the world."

"I am."

"You are." Chakotay sighed. "I don't think he and B'Elanna are going to make it out the other side. She blames Tom for his father's decisions, especially regarding the Maquis."

Tabor shook his head. "That's too bad. Tom and his father never got along I'm told."

"No, they didn't," Chakotay replied.

"It hurts to be good doesn't it?" Tabor replied, smiling at Chakotay's wistful comment.

Chakotay smiled, his face flushing with embarrassment. "It does."

"I know," Tabor said. "I almost went to bed with your brother."

"You did?" Chakotay asked, a surprised tone in his voice.

"Yeah. He's awfully sexy. I like him a lot."

"He likes you too, Tabor."

They stared at each other and burst into laughter.

"We're severely dysfunctional."

"Down right pathetic if you ask me," Tabor said, wiping his eyes with his napkin. "That's why I like all of you."

Chakotay shook his head, a huge grin on his face. "That's why I like you too, babe."

"Eat." Tabor grinned and watched as Chakotay began to eat.

"You're going to need all your strength not only for your unrequited love but for me too. I feel especially frisky today."

Chakotay snorted and swallowed his mouthful. "God help us all then," he said with a grin.

**********On the Crazy Horse...

Tom stretched out on his bed, aware that his shift didn't start for a while. He felt rested but emotionally weary. Nothing was resolved but his feelings for Chakotay. They were gearing up for another mission and would be standing out to help protect weapons convoys coming in from non-aligned space. They would be working together, all of them including B'Elanna and life would go on. But he knew everything was changed. B'Elanna had told him something he could never talk away with her. Chakotay had taken him into his heart. It was all a mess. He closed his eyes and sighed, willing himself to sleep. In a few hours he would be on duty and things would move along as they should. Right now he only had his fears and thoughts for company and they were wearing thin. Turning on his side, he willed himself to sleep.

**********Enterprise...

Beverly Crusher stared into space, oblivious to the people with her. Sorrel Bay had been taken by the Maquis, there had been a lot of debris and no one knew if Wesley, or the others, were alive. A blackness fell over her that she hadn't felt since they told her of Jack's death. Behind her, watching helplessly, Deanna Troi and Jean-Luc Picard waited. They watched her as she stood motionless and then Picard turned to Troi. "Stay with her. I'm going to the Bridge. We've been assigned to the last known area of the Sorrel Bay. I'd like to move on it now."

Troi nodded, watching as he left his cabin and then she turned, waiting for Beverly to speak to her. It would be a long, long wait.

=0=


	9. Chapter 9

Book Nine: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

They had flown for three days escorting ships here and there. The fighting had simmered down, the Federation merely contented for the moment with monitoring what was going on with the Maquis. The Maquis were consolidating their positions, sending operatives into different places and setting up networks. They were like water. You dabbed at one place and there they would leak out some place else. Under Bey's leadership, they had begun to build a network within the Federation of deep plants, people who were emotionally attracted to their struggle and others who could be co-opted. A dalliance here, an indiscretion there and one-by-one they all were sought and sealed.

They could get messages into the Federation and out again in a matter of hours. They had developed their own covert technology, some of it their own and some obtained from other species, especially those non-aligned officially with either side. They could encrypt messages and piggyback them on normal transmissions, sending them in pieces that could be reassembled at their destination. They were undetectable and their most effective technology weapon.

The Maquis unlike the Federation had nothing to lose so their tactics were always that much more edgy. The men and women chosen to do the work were totally committed to the Cause. They received intense loyalty from people on the rim who had suffered most directly from the recent war. They also received cooperation from those with no interest in the situation merely because to do less than that would be to run the risk of Maquis wrath.

The Federation had bases along the DMZ, sites for ships and for personnel. One of the biggest was on Dorvan V. It was as if they decided to add insult to injury by choosing the planet with the most ties to the Revolutionary Council. All of the planets along the rim lived under martial law and they had no representation in the High Council of the Federation. None of the people who lived out here had their citizenship restored.

Citizenship had been stripped from known Maquis operatives earlier and during the years following the war, during the siege of martial law the rest had followed. Representation from the rim with its unbendable demand for reparations and a say in reconstruction had become too much for the hardliners to bear. They wanted to crush the Maquis, exact penalties from them and take reparations from the rim that they felt had supported the renegades, thus becoming traitors to the Federation.

Any dissenting voices were overpowered in the rhetoric of the numerically stronger hawks who themselves were financed in some cases by industrialists who wanted a greater share of the resources of the rim without the pesky limitations of laws, rules and meeting the diverse cultural demands of the people who lived out there. All everyone needed to do was crush the Maquis and subdue the unrest along the rim.

Because martial law was in effect news about what was happening on the Rim was heavily censored or banned. The greater Federation populace tired out by years of war were didn't seem to want to hear that things weren't well in the empire. People wanted to move on and they wanted to do that now. Consequently, they knew only what they were told and what they were told was slanted. Heavily.

Harry noticed them first. "Captain, we have a ship bearing one four seven mark two."

"Can you identify it?" Chakotay asked glancing over his shoulder. There was a pause and then Harry looked up. "It's Enterprise."

Chakotay turned back and rose, walking to the conn. "How is the convoy?"

"They're going to cross into the safe side of our route in about thirty minutes. Until then ..." Tom said looking up with a shrug.

"How far away are they, Harry?" Chakotay asked.

"Twenty minutes if they speed up ... they've just sped up," Harry said, looking up grimly.

"Tom, come about and take us parallel to the convoy. I want to see who they chase," Chakotay said, moving back to his chair. Tom moved out swinging her wide and set the ship to parallel the convoy that was moving toward the DMZ. "Chakotay to Convoy One."

"Convoy one."

"We have Enterprise coming up on us. We'll try to keep her busy. Hurry it up and don't wait for us."

"Affirmative. Good look, Crazy Horse. Convoy One out."

The convoy increased speed, cutting their course for a straighter line to their own space. Crazy Horse followed, scanning widely for anyone else that might be moving in tandem with Enterprise. For ten minutes, there was no change and then the comm channel buzzed.

"Unmarked ship, this is Enterprise. Identify yourself."

Chakotay recognized Picard's distinctive voice and thought a moment. "This is the freighter, Red Bar," he replied. "Identify yourself."

"This is Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Star Ship Enterprise. We want to board you for inspection."

"Enterprise, you have no authority to board us," Chakotay replied.

"Of course we do, Commander. We know who you really are. Stand down and prepare to be boarded."

"The last ship to make that demand, Picard, was the Sorrel Bay. Check the fleet and tell me if you see her on the active duty roster." Chakotay rose, walking to the navigation station checking their position relative to the rapidly moving cruiser following them. "Tom, how much distance is there for the freighters to make until they reach the minefield?"

"Ten more minutes," Tom replied.

"Shields, Tuvok. Arm weapons and go to red alert."

Lights flashed red and the alarm sounded until it was cut short.

"Enterprise is arming, Captain," Harry said his voice tense.

"Tuvok, warn the convoy that they're on their own. We'll try and keep Enterprise off their backs but they're to move as fast as they can for safety."

"Affirmative," Tuvok replied, his fingers flying over his console.

They moved farther afield and turned, heading back toward Enterprise. She zoomed toward them and they cut across her bow, forcing the big ship to arc away before colliding. Crazy Horse curved back, moving down the DMZ away from the convoy. "Status on the convoy!" Chakotay called out.

"Clear in seven minutes," Harry replied.

"Shit," Chakotay cursed.

The ship rocked as fire landed on her shields, the lightning effect of it scattering in the darkness around them. Tom turned, moving down and below Enterprise teasing her with proximity as phaser blows missed them dissipating into the darkness. Chakotay turned and took the station behind the command chairs, watching the data flow across his console. "Tuvok, fire at will!"

The ship rocked as bolts hit them and flashes of light flew out, raking a line of flashes across the belly of the great ship. They careened past each other, glistening in the darkness.

"Harry! The convoy!" Chakotay hollered.

They made it to the minefield," he said hanging on as another hit rocked the ship.

"Tom! Take us out of here!" Chakotay yelled his fingers flying on the console. Tom arched the ship, cutting under Enterprise and turning away from her. She turned with them and they flew with fury toward the DMZ. Tom aimed for the open space that was declared the demarcation line. He would flash through it, moving toward the small system of planets on the other side, slingshotting off the gravity of its small sun.

Enterprise followed, firing shot after shot and when they hit the DMZ, she followed. Tuvok returned fire, scoring hits for their side. "Shields down to sixty-five percent!" he called out firing another salvo.

"We're going to volley off the sun ahead! Hang on!" Tom said programming the critical mathematics that would allow them to use the gravity well of the small sun to throw them out and away from pursuit. They flashed toward the sun, the ship throwing herself into a parallel path to her gravity well and then they flung forward careening past the system and onward toward the safety of their own space. Enterprise followed, executing the same maneuver and followed her moving into Maquis territory in pursuit. Tom noted their movements, coaxing his ship into a sharp angled turn, heading for a scattering of debris from a comet. He entered, the shields shearing off ice and small chunks of rock as they plowed through.

Enterprise followed, her shots missing Crazy Horse as she twisted and turned through evasive maneuvers. A smaller and more agile ship, Crazy Horse vaulted out the other side moving like fury for safety. As she did small fighters fell out of nowhere and fired on Enterprise, her shields blossoming with bursts of fire like bouquets of flowers.

Picard held onto the arm of his chair and noted the situation. "Take us out of here!"

Data turned her, arcing back toward the DMZ, small fighters hot on her tail. They battled back, swatting at the agile ships until they made the DMZ once more. The fighters broke off and turned, catching up as best they could to the Crazy Horse. "Tall One leader to Crazy Horse."

"Crazy Horse here," Chakotay said moving to the conn.

"Nice to see you, Captain. How is your ship?"

"We have burns and a few repairs ahead. We're a lot less hurt than we would have been without you. Thank you."

"We patrol the DMZ waiting for the scheduled convoys to cross. We're glad to help you. Do you need escort?"

"No, thanks," Chakotay said sighing with relief. "Take care."

They signed off and disappeared into the comet's debris field, melting back into the darkness once more. Chakotay turned and looked at Tuvok. "Stand down, Mr. Tuvok. I want damage reports and any casualties."

Tuvok nodded and bent to his task. Chakotay turned and looked at Tom, his handsome face flushed with the effort of what they had accomplished. "Good flying, Tom. That's some of the best I've ever seen." Chakotay walked over and leaned down. "Cutting under Enterprise almost made me lose my lunch."

Tom grinned and looked up at him. "Sorry about that. It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Chakotay grinned and squeezed his shoulder. Turning, he walked up and began to confer with Harry. Tom watched him and then turned to the job at hand. He grinned and turned, moving the ship toward their home base. They continued on making repairs even as they flew and when they arrived at their homebase they were taken into their berth, crews moving into place even as she assumed their parking orbit.

They stood down and Tom rose, making way for his replacement. He turned to go when Chakotay called out. "Tom! Wait a second."

He turned and paused, nodding to Harry as he walked to the lift.

"See you later?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded. "Call you."

Harry nodded and turned, entering the lift and leaving. Chakotay moved from tactical and walked toward Tom taking his arm and steering him to his ready room. They entered and Chakotay turned, gazing at Tom quizzically. "Would it be out of bounds if you join me for dinner?"

Tom relaxed. "We've *slept* together, Chakotay. I don't think that dinner would be too risque."

"Good," Chakotay said smiling.

"What brings this on?" Tom asked, crossing his arms and regarding his commander with suspicion.

"It seems ridiculous for us not to be friends," Chakotay began. Tom tilted his head, a smirk crossing his face.

"Well, maybe *more* than friends. I'm not asking to fuck you. Yet."

Tom grinned and rested his hands on Chakotay's arms as he walked closer, his own hands resting on Tom's waist. "What will Tabor say?" Tom asked.

"He knows. We've talked."

Tom blinked. "You talked with your current boy friend about your unrequited boy friend who's *married*?"  
Chakotay snorted and smiled, his dimples flashing. "He's a better man than I deserve."

"Apparently," Tom said smirking.

Chakotay kissed Tom lightly. "Come on. Let's go down."

They turned and walked out onto the Bridge leaving with the rest of the Alpha crew. They stepped off and walked to the transporter room, beaming down to the planet below. It was raining slightly, the air warm and fresh and the streets glistened with shallow pools of water. The windows were streaked with rain, people moving from awning-to-awning as they made their way along. The sun was breaking through the clouds even as rain misted down and they hurried heading for a sidewalk cafe down the street. Taking a seat under an awning, Tom and Chakotay relaxed, tilting the table for the water to run off. A waiter took their order and they settled back, watching people coming and going on the street.

"We could have bought it today," Chakotay said, sipping his drink.

"We didn't," Tom said. "Enterprise is a big enemy. Picard knows his stuff."

"So do we," Chakotay said. "I'd put our experience up against anyone."

"What do you think about the prison plan?" Tom asked popping an orange slice into his mouth.

Chakotay sighed. "I think we can pull it off if we try hard enough and plan well."

"You know what Nayib suggested. I think he's right."

"I don't," Chakotay said his eyes filling with emotion. "I think it's a bad idea to lose someone to get another out."

"I can pilot the getaway ship. Nayib can get people organized."

"I don't like it, Tom."

"What if Bey orders it?"

Chakotay sat a long time before he answered. "I can't say now."

"Fair enough," Tom said, nodding. He leaned forward. "I would never let anything come between us, not now that I finally know."

"The universe has a way of rising up and biting us on the ass, Tom. I don't trust many things anymore."

Tom smiled broadly. "Chakotay, you have become me."

"There's worse things I could do," Chakotay said watching as the waiter delivered their food.

"And I'm sure we'll end up doing them," Tom said, reaching for the salt. They sat together, eating dinner while all around them the Maquis swirled.

=0=

Book Nine: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

Bey rubbed his eyes, noting that it was late. He rose and put his work into a pile. Noting that Nayib wasn't awakened he walked over to the couch where he was sprawled and nudged him awake with his knee. He snorted and awoke. "Come on. Let's get something to eat."

Nayib rose and stretched. "Let's eat on the Sorrel Bay. Let's use the facilities."

Bey chuckled and together they walked out the door to the transporter room beyond. They told their destination to the chief and took their places, disappearing into the thin air and rematerializing on the Bridge of the ship. Looking around they noted the huge number of repairs that were finished, many more than they had believed could be accomplished in such a short time. Bey turned and walked to Janeway's Ready Room, Nayib following and they entered, Bey walking to her desk. He sat down and punched up a screen, reading about the progress of the repairs with satisfaction. "They're doing miracles."

Nayib nodded, punching in a dinner request and taking it to the dining table nearby. Bey rose and comming off, walked to join his brother. "This ship will be invaluable if we can use her in an action that can be witnessed by the Federation. Star Fleet would explode if they knew we were salvaging her."

Bey grinned. "They would. However, we have to take care of her. She's a prize, just like Voyager."

"Who's going to captain her?"

"Tuvok or Tom. I want someone with star ship experience, who knows the 'Fleet and can act accordingly."

"Chakotay wouldn't like losing his chief pilot to another ship," Nayib said grinning.

"No," Bey said nodding. "However, this is the army, Mr. Jones."

Nayib smiled and shook his head. "I hate the army, brother. It's not for me."

"Nor me but fate has other ideas," Bey replied.

"I wonder where Chakotay is," Nayib asked, his eyes flickering toward Bey.

The older man frowned slightly. "Behaving himself I hope."

"Of course," Nayib said, smirking. "He's our Chakotay."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Bey said sternly. "That makes me very, very afraid."

**********Elsewhere, at the same time...

Tom and Chakotay stood at the riverside watching the moon shimmer on the dark water. It was warm and calm, the sounds of town and shipping going by muffled by the sultry night. It was quiet and they enjoyed it together. Tom turned looking at Chakotay as he leaned against the railing, his arms folded across his chest. "What are you thinking of?"

Chakotay sighed and shrugged. "I was thinking how could there be war when the night looks like this."

Tom looked at the water, at the shimmering fullness of the moon's reflection and nodded. "I know."

Chakotay turned and looked at him gauging him carefully. "What are you going to do about B'Elanna?"

It was Tom's turn to shrug. "I don't know. She won't even acknowledge me now."

"I want you."

Tom shifted, turning to face the water. "I want you. Now. Before? I thought I was happy, married and happy. Isn't life a bitch? I really thought I had something. I thought I had what I wanted and then ... *this* happened," he said frustration in his voice as he waved his hands. He turned to Chakotay. "I wish I had known sooner. I can't get it out of my head. I wish you would've said something. *Anything*."

Chakotay turned and moved to Tom, slipping his arms around Tom's waist. He pressed his mouth against Tom's, kissing him into silence. Tom's arms slipped around his neck, his long fingers into Chakotay's hair as they stood together, kissing each other with desperation. Chakotay broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared at Tom with emotion and passion. He pulled Tom closer, their lips nearly touching and he watched Tom's face, the emotions passing across it like clouds in the sky.

"Chakotay," Tom whispered. "I wish-"

"I know," Chakotay replied, pulling Tom into an embrace. "I know."

They stood together, holding each other as boats sailed past them, plying the darkness and the dark smooth water, giving no notice to the two men on the shore. Chakotay sighed and stepped back, staring at Tom with frustration and need.m"God, I want you," he whispered.

"Chakotay-"

"No," Chakotay said cutting off Tom's acquiescence. "It's all right. Don't say it. If you do I won't be able to say no."

Tom shook his head sadly, stepping back into Chakotay's embrace.

"We're something," he whispered.

Chakotay sighed. "We are, babe."

"What now, Chakotay?" Tom asked, swaying gently with the older man as they stood embracing.

"I don't know," Chakotay said. "I just want to touch you sometimes. That's all right, isn't it?"

Tom grinned, tightening his arms around Chakotay's neck. "Yeah," Tom whispered. "That would be fine."

**********Elsewhere...

She stood and stared out the window, at the big round moon beyond the dark tree line. She was captive and her fate undetermined. Would she stay here for years and years or would they barter her? What would the Federation say if she came back? How would she explain how she lost two ships?

Turning, she walked back to her bed, sitting on it and staring at the floor. She was locked up here alone for twenty-two hours of the day. She could exercise alone in a fenced in courtyard for two and she made use of it fully. She didn't want to get flabby and lose her edge. She fully planned to get away. She had asked to see Chakotay every day since she had been jailed and he had not come. Tuvok hadn't come and neither had Tom. She had no one to talk to, no one to hear her. She was stuck here alone and it was wearying. She sat back, going over poems in her mind, reciting the verse like some kind of prayer.

It would help her get by until her fate was determined. She would continue as she had and she would continue to ask for Chakotay. Eventually, surely, he would come to see her. Surely, he would she thought.

**********Elsewhere...

Miles O'Brien and Julian Bashir sat in their cabin, dealing cards. It had been a long, hard day. He had worked on the refit and rebuild of Sorrel Bay and Julian had worked on the Sick Bay as well as helping with refugees that were streaming through to the safe camps beyond this base. It had shaken him how many desperate people had been plucked from other places and moved to better safety by the Maquis. They had a huge operation of relief programs that not only helped people but cemented their ties with the ever important public opinion on the rim.

"They want to get Sorrel Bay back on line. They want to use her in tandem with Crazy Horse," Miles said, drawing two more cards.

"They will. She's nearly done I'm told. Am I correct?" Julian said.

Miles nodded. "They pillaged ships for parts for the nacelle. It's just about ready to test. I think they did a miracle."

"They're in the business of miracles if you listen to the refugees. I treated some that had been caught between the 'Fleet and the Maquis, taking casualties. They defected to the Maquis and were lifted out to here for transit on to other places."

"It makes them friends in the local populations. Who would you sleep with, the Federation that left you or the Maquis that wants to help you?"

Julian nodded. "No choice there," he said. "Funny choice of words, 'sleep'."

"Maybe," Miles said, sitting back. "What do you suppose will happen to us, Julian?"

Julian met his serious gaze and paused, sitting back. "I think we'll fly on a Maquis ship and either live or die that way."

Miles nodded. "I suppose there's worse ways to go."

"I suppose," Julian said, laying down his cards. "Gin."

Miles rolled his eyes and threw down his cards. "You're unconscious, you are."

Julian smiled. "You're just predictable."

Miles smiled slightly. "Maybe," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe not."

***********At the Chief Pilot's cabin...

They stood together talking, nearly chest to chest. They had walked along the riverbank, finally beaming up to their ship. It had been a good evening, talking and eating together, the attraction that drew them something nearly alive between them. Chakotay finally sighed and leaned in, kissing Tom lingeringly on the lips. "See you in the morning," he said his voice wistful.

"Some day you will, maybe," Tom said, sighing himself. He squeezed Chakotay's arm and walked inside, the door closing behind him. Chakotay lingered a moment and then turned, walking to the door of his own cabin just down the , he walked to the bathroom, noting that Tabor wasn't home yet. He stripped and showered, finishing his routine as he shut off the bathroom light. He entered the bedroom, pulling back covers and climbing inside. His body ached and so did his cock, the thought of Tom's mouth on him making him restless.

He reached under the covers and began to stroke himself, idly thinking of Tom as he did. When the door opened he paused, watching as a dark figure entered the room.

"Hi," Tabor said smiling down at Chakotay.

"Hi," Chakotay replied smiling back. "Have a good evening?"

"Sure did," Tabor said moving to sit on the bed. He raised the covers and stared down at Chakotay's hard on. "Looks like you did too."

"Not yet," Chakotay said, smiling.

"Tom?" Tabor asked, his eyes sparkling.

Chakotay sighed. "You drive me crazy when you say things like that."

"Maybe," Tabor said, reaching down and stroking Chakotay's cock. "That doesn't make them less true."

"Maybe," Chakotay answered noncommittally. "It still doesn't make it any less awkward."

Tabor grinned and leaned down, kissing Chakotay on the lips. Chakotay sighed, the taste of beer sweet on his lips. Tabor rose and walked to the bathroom, pulling his clothes off. Heturned and smiled at Chakotay.

"You're so cute when you're guilt-ridden. Give me five and I'll help you with your little problem."

Chakotay smirked. "Only five?"

Tabor chuckled. "You have no idea how fast I can be when I put my mind to it."

"I think I do, babe," Chakotay said, watching as Tabor's naked ass disappeared into the bathroom. He closed his eyes, listening as the shower came on. Tabor moved around, doing his business and then he was climbing into bed, moving to lean over Chakotay's prone body. He reached down and took Chakotay into his hand, squeezing gently and smiling as a look of intense pleasure crossed the older man's face. "Feels good?"

"Yeah," Chakotay whispered. "Damned good."

Chakotay sighed as Tabor bent down, working his magic with his tongue, lips and teeth. Chakotay groaned, closing his eyes, falling into an ocean of pleasure. When he came he turned the tables, giving back to his lover what he so gently gave. They lay together, wrapped in each other and talked for some time.

By the time they fell asleep it would be only a few hours until shift began again. In the morning, they would go to Sorrel Bay and begin the testing that would determine her fitness to fly.

In the morning, Tom Paris would rise and shine, working on the conn of the great ship, Harry at Ops and Tuvok at Tactical.

In the morning, Beyvahl would finalize his plans to attend the regional leadership meeting at a forward base. He would fly on a shuttle, nondescript and unmarked. He would need a pilot but that would be determined later.

In the morning, Julian Bashir would take his place as permanent chief medical officer of the Sorrel Bay, joining Miles O'Brien as alpha staff. Miles would become chief engineer, heading a staff of mixed 'Fleet and Maquis that would keep the great ship running.

In the morning, Neelix would take a breakfast to Janeway,

becoming the first person allowed to visit her. They would chat about this and that, both of them aware of the two men standing nearby listening to every word they said.

In the morning, Nayib would see his brother off, assuming interim command of the daily operations until Beyvahl returned. He would concentrate on his plan, the one to spring their compatriots and by the time Bey should return, he would have a way to beat the motion detectors on the open side of the camp.

In the morning, Chakotay would be coordinating the diagnostic of the Sorrel Bay, putting her through her paces as they confirmed the good news that the nacelle was up to duty.

In the morning, Kira Nerys would pull a shift of guard duty at the camp where Kathryn Janeway was staying, noting that the security levels there were the equal of any place she had ever seen. She would note the common barracks, the gardens where prisoners grew their own food and the faces of people she knew that were behind the wire. She would consider herself lucky, the conflict rising within her as she did her stint, keeping people in who would have been out in other circumstances. When she finished she would be as conflicted as she had ever been since capture.

**********Nine o'clock the next morning...

"Your shuttle is ready," an officer said.

Bey looked up and nodded, gathering his gear together. Nayib looked at him. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not more than a day or so. I'm heading back as soon as I can."

Nayib nodded. "Who's flying you?"

"I was going to take Clarice but she's not feeling well.

I think I'm going to ask Tom Paris."

Nayib nodded. "He's the best."

"He is," Bey agreed, turning and walking to the door.

They walked to the transporter padd and in seconds they were on board the Sorrel Bay, standing to one side on the Bridge. All around them people worked, getting things ready for a test flight. He walked to Chakotay and they whispered, Chakotay nodding. Bey turned and nodded to Nayib who in turn, walked to Tom and whispered in his ear. Tom nodded and waved to his replacement, rising and walking to the engineering station where Bey stood with Chakotay. Nayib joined him.

"So where do you want to go?" Tom asked taking the padd Bey had handed him.

"It won't take long. We're using information we got from this ship and Janeway on the route to take. Star Fleet shouldn't be a factor."

Tom swallowed at the mention of Kathryn's name and Chakotay glanced at him. He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. "All right. Just be careful. I'm still adjusting to having you here."

Bey smiled. "No problem." He hugged his brother and turned to go, Tom turning with him. Chakotay caught Tom's arm, leaning in and kissing him softly. Tom stared at him, noting the emotion on his face. "See ya," he said softly.

Chakotay nodded and watched as the two men walked across the Bridge to the lift beyond. They would be flying a modified shuttle from Sorrel Bay. It would be a day he thought, then they would both be back. He sighed and turned, glancing at Nayib who leaned against the console, his eyes following both men until the lift door closed. "They'll be all right, Chakotay," he said.

"I hope so," Chakotay said, the sense of foreboding that filled him intense.

"Eat with me tonight," Nayib said, turning to go.

"I will. Comm me," Chakotay replied, watching as Nayib nodded and walked across the Bridge to leave. Soon he was gone and Chakotay was left to ponder the vagaries of ship's systems. At the same time on the flight deck, a small shuttle lifted off and headed out for the darkness of space beyond.

=0=

Book Nine: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

On the way to the Maquis leadership rendezvous...

It was quiet, the run normal in most ways. They plotted their course and flew quietly. Bey sat reading a book, all the information he needed inside his head. Tom flew, his sensors sweeping far-and-wide for anything that might be a problem.

They were heading for a meeting of section chiefs, a meeting that was held in the greatest secrecy once every six months. It would only last a few hours but it would help them with general management, recruitment goals and special projects. This meeting prevented an intercept of messages and the interminable delays of couriers. In four hours they would be crossing clear space and heading for the rendezvous on a neutral planet near the DMZ.

**********Space, near the Maquis HQ...

They had taken the Sorrel Bay out for a shakedown, full crew complement three quarter Maquis and the rest 'Fleet personnel from Voyager. The department heads and command crew were Voyager 'Fleet with some exceptions. Chief Tactical was Kira Nerys, Chief Engineer was Miles O'Brien and Chief Medical was Julian Bashir.

Chakotay put her through her paces, noting that she performed nearly to peak capacity. Small problems that had arisen had been fixed on the spot or slated for greater repair in port. They had targeted their phasers on asteroids near an untraveled portion of space and they had needed adjustments, their accuracy slightly off. It had taken three hours but once that problem was corrected, she was good to go.

The new crew would need time to become a team but they were excited and ready to do the best job possible. Chakotay sat in the command chair considering Bey's suggestion that Tuvok or Tom command this ship. He decided that Tuvok would be best choice as he planned to run the two ships together on most of their missions. With Tuvok, they were of one mind and as senior officer between them he knew Tuvok would work as his partner.

Sitting back, he watched as the helmsman put her through tight turns and evasive maneuvers. He didn't fly like Tom but then few did.

Tom.

He hoped he would be back in the timeframe they had discussed. Chakotay missed him already. With a sigh, he settled down and concentrated at the job at hand.

**********Halfway to their rendezvous point...

It happened so fast Tom could barely react. His fingers flew, more out of instinct than awareness and the shuttle began to evade their pursuers. The ship had appeared from behind a small desolate planet. They hadn't been aware of its presence so complete was their cover.

"What's the likelihood of evading?" Bey asked, moving to sit beside Tom.

"Unlikely," Tom said grimly. "I'll try, Bey, but I won't lie to you."

"Send the alert message ahead."

Tom's fingers flew and a message was sent to the chieftain rendezvous. Seconds after it was received they would all be gone, any sign of their presence removed from detection. Behind them, flying as fast they were, a big ship announced itself.

"Unmarked shuttle, this is the Star Ship Enterprise. Stand down and prepare to be boarded."

"Fuck," Tom hissed. "Picard."

Bey nodded and moved to the computer, deleting anything that might be remotely incriminating. He turned and watched as Tom flew the ship wildly, missing the bolts of energy that Enterprise began to fire. He moved to engineering, working to reinforce shields but he knew it would be a lost cause. They weren't going to escape. "We're losing our shields, Tom!" Bey called out over a shattering blast of energy. "We're down!"

A light shot out from Enterprise capturing the shuttle. Slowly, ever so slowly, they began to reel her in. Tom fought her with every trick he could but without shields it was all futile. He turned and looked at Bey, the older man sitting quietly, his face pale but his eyes burning with fury."Do we fight them or do we surrender? Your call, Bey," Tom said staring at his commander with a sinking sensation of futility.

Bey looked at him and sighed deeply. "Fight. No surrender," he said, extending his hand toward Tom. Tom gripped it, holding it tightly as they waited and then they felt the ship settle, sitting down on the deck of Enterprise. They rose and turned, facing the door with clenched fists. In seconds, men would pour through and it would be short, brutish and hopeless.

**********Later that afternoon...

Nayib held the message in his hand staring without seeing it. Bey was captured. Bey was gone. His brother was gone. Such a pain coursed through him that he turned and sat gripping the chair with his hand. He felt nauseated and terrorized, waves of pain flashing through him as he thought about what had befallen his beloved older brother.

They had him, they had him. It flashed through his mind. The others, scattered to the wind with the alert message the shuttle had gotten off had sent word to him. Bey was caught and they were regrouping. It all fell to Nayib. The leadership was his now. He looked up, staring into the face of the courier with eyes brimming with tears. "Call Chakotay," he whispered. "Call my brother."

The aide nodded and turned, hurrying away as Nayib sat, his head in his hands. It seemed like forever before he felt someone sit beside him, an arm encircling Nayib's shoulders. He looked up, blinking to clear his vision and saw Chakotay's face, as ashen and as terrorized as his own. "They have him. They took Bey."

Chakotay nodded, images of his brother and Tom in chains flashing through his mind. He shoved them away and sat back, pulling his brother with him. They sat together, silent and shattered, gathering themselves for what had to come next.

**********Sick Bay, Enterprise...

Tom sat on a chair, his bruises being regenerated by a Vulcan doctor. She passed the device over his battered skin and the hurts disappeared. The ones in his heart would take more than a regenerator. He was sick in a way that he hadn't ever experienced, sicker than the lowest moment of his life. Chains held him fast, feet and hands, and he stared straight ahead, rigid with tension. Nearby, lying on a biobed, Bey lay shackled. They had hit him in the head with a phaser rifle and he had been dragged out unconscious. Tom had been beaten into submission, half-walking, half-dragged to the lift and sickbay.

The door opened and Picard walked in, followed by Riker. His expression never changed and he ignored them, watching as they conferred with another doctor about the quiet man on the bed. Then they turned and walked toward him, an unpleasant of contempt faintly outlining Picard's expression. "Thomas Paris. Welcome to the Federation."

"Picard," Tom replied looking at him cockily. "And what a fucked up place it still is."

Picard's expression tightened even as Riker's betrayed amusement. "You are our prisoner, you and Nayib over there,"

Picard said nodding toward Bey. "We've been expecting you."

Tom looked at them, considering their error and leaned back in his chair.

"You will be treated as prisoners of war and I expect that you will deport yourself as same."

Tom smirked. "You're such a shit, Picard. You sound like my old man. *Deport*. Pardon me if I puke."

Picard looked at Tom with that penetrating stare of contempt for which he was famous. "Commander, make sure our guests get the usual accommodation."

Riker nodded and Picard turned, walking out of the room to the corridor beyond. Tom watched him go and then turned his attention to Riker. "He's as big a prick as ever," Tom said, smirking at the tall hulking man before him.

"Better that than a traitor," Riker said eying Tom with contempt.

"You should know. How long has it been, Riker, since you were a decent man?" Tom asked meeting Riker's gaze.

He stared at Tom and then turned. "How long before I can throw them in the Brig?"

"Give me a moment. I want to make sure this one is all right."

"Yes. Make sure he's well enough to hang. Federation justice. Hasn't changed much has it?" Tom needled.

Riker turned and stared at him. "Worked well enough to put you into prison once before. I'm sure they'll do the same now."

Tom smirked. "That's all Star Fleet is good at anymore isn't it? Putting people into prison? Shooting people, backing fucked up policy. Tell me, Riker, does it do your heart good to kill people for the Federation, to finish what the Cardassians started?"

Riker looked at Tom for a long time and then he spoke softly. "In your case, yes."

He turned and walked to the door, pausing to confer with the armed guards that stood there. On his bed Bey rose helped by the doctor that had worked on him. He was sore and tired, dizzy and dazed. He stepped down slowly and stood a moment. She stood beside him, holding his arm. Tom arose, his guard moving him toward the door. He paused and looked at Bey gauging his clarity.

"I would like to be in Nayib's cell. I want to be able to see that he's all right," Tom said appealing to the doctor holding Bey's arm. "What would it harm?"

For a moment she stood, then she nodded, turning to the security officer waiting to take them. "Put them in the same cell."

"I'll have to clear it with the Captain."

"I'll do it."

He nodded and turned, nudging Bey with his rifle barrel. Tom took Bey's arm as best he could and together they walked out of the room. Beverly Crusher watched them go, more than aware of who Tom was. She had seen him before at functions where he stood bored and polite, an appendage of his father. She sighed and walked to the terminal, clearing Tom's placement with Picard.

**********Elsewhere...

Chakotay listened as Nayib finished the call. He sat by the window his mind feverish with thoughts about his brother and Tom. There could be no doubt that they were on their way to Earth. The Federation had made a real coup and he only hoped that Bey would survive the interrogation that was sure to come with his capture.

Nayib signed off and looked at Chakotay. "It's a done deal. I'm it."

Chakotay nodded. "I'm with you, Nayib."

Nayib nodded emotion welling in him. He stared at Bey's desk, at the pen lying where he had dropped it and he tried not to think of what could be happening to him. "I'm glad you're here," Nayib said quietly.

Chakotay turned and walked over, embracing his brother tightly. They stood together and then Chakotay stepped back. "I'm going to talk to Janeway."

Nayib's expression hardened. He nodded and watched as Chakotay turned and left the room. First Janeway and then they would figure out what to do in retaliation. Turning, he commed the computer and began to search through their intelligence for the movements of the Federation President.

**********Enterprise...

They moved behind the barrier and Tom helped Bey sit, the older man dizzy and weak. The barrier went up and Tom ignored it sitting beside Bey, his arm around the older man's shoulders. "Are you all right?" Tom whispered watching the guard as he moved away.

"I think so," Bey replied rubbing his head with his hand.

Tom considered if they would be overheard and decided to take a chance. He took Bey's chin and turned his face, leaning in and kissing him on the lips. He lingered for a moment and then nuzzled his neck. "They think you're Nayib," he whispered softly.

Bey sat frozen and then relaxed slightly, pulling back to stare at Tom's pale face. He blinked as he considered Tom's words and when the younger man leaned in again he didn't pull back. Tom kissed him, stroking his face, his lips close to Bey's ear. "Fake it," Tom whispered. "Don't let them know they're wrong." Tom sat back and Bey looked at him swallowing hard. He nodded that he understood and Tom relaxed. He rose and turned to Bey.

"Stretch out, Nayib. Try and rest."

Bey sat a moment and then nodded, lying back on the narrow bunk. He closed his eyes and sighed, the pounding in his head subsiding slightly. Tom licked dry lips and sat down on the floor, bracing his back against the Brig's wall. He sighed deeply the old misery rising as they sped their way to prison.

Or worse.

**********At the Maquis prison...

He walked to the door and stared inside, noting her sitting at the table her arms bare in her prison-issue t-shirt. She looked strong and pale, by-products of incarceration and he noted her hair pulled back in a ponytail. It made her features sharper, more petite. It looked good that way he thought abstractly. She looked younger and less hard. He opened the door and stepped inside, noting her eyes focusing upon him as she sat at the table, her hands folded together. She watched him as he moved, standing across the table from her, his eyes glistening coldly as he looked at her.

"Chakotay," she said softly.

He stood still a moment and then he stepped closer, his rage barely in control. "Hello, Kathryn," he said, his voice a barely audible whisper.

=0=

Book Nine: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

At the Maquis prison...

"Chakotay," she said softly.

He stood still a moment and then he stepped closer, his rage barely in control. "Hello, Kathryn," he said, his voice a barely audible whisper.

"You came," she said, sitting back, her eyes level with Chakotay's.

He sat, staring at her with implacable emotion. "They took my brother."

It was silent for a moment.

"Your brother."

"Beyvahl, my older brother. He's a lawyer; did you know that? He's an environmental lawyer."

"I didn't know that."

"He was taken on the way to a meeting by a ship that knew he would be coming along that particular route."

She stared at him the implications clear to her. He leaned forward on his elbows closing the distance between them. His rage was palpable. "Tom was flying the shuttle."

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. "I didn't know."

Chakotay considered her. "Probably."

"I *didn't know*," she said, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Do you know that the crew, the freed 'Fleet crew is in prison in New Mexico?"

She looked at him and stood, moving back from the table a few steps. "You're lying."

"You don't know do you ..." Chakotay whispered.

"They're ... they were sent home."

"Did you hear from them? Any of them?" Chakotay asked leaning back in his chair.

She was silent a moment, her expression hardening. "No."

Chakotay reached into his pocket and pulled a padd out. He tossed it on the table. "Intelligence. Read it."

She stared at him a moment and then slowly walked forward to pick up the padd. She read it, her expression changing from grief to rage to deep emotion. She looked at him, her expressive eyes dark and pain-filled. Turning, she threw it against the wall, shattering the slim device. "You're lying. This is a lie."

"You know it isn't."

The room became quiet as they stared at each other and then Janeway turned, moving to the window. "Get out."

"You set us up. You set us up and now my brother is in prison and so is Tom."

She stood there a long time, not moving and then she turned, her face filled with anguish. "This is war."

Chakotay rose and walked toward the door, pausing before stepping out. "It is." He turned and left, the door closing behind him and she turned, looking at it with tear-filled eyes. With a shuddering sigh, she turned and stared out the window once more.

**********Nearing Earth...

They had been shifted from Enterprise, the great ship going back out on duty, and they had been taken to Earth on a fast and secure prison ship. Separate cells had been their fate and they couldn't see or hear each other. Tom sat or paced all day long, the irons on his feet clanking with every step.

Bey sat on his bed, meditating or worrying and as each day passed he knew they came closer to prison. He felt terrible about Tom, about asking him to fly and he was grateful that Tom had told him that they had mistaken his identity. Upon hearing that news he had spent a day or two going over the databases that might have his identity and decided that they were few and maybe none. He had wiped them once the Maquis had arisen and their lifestyle, traditional and low key had ensured that the family's pictures showed up in few if any places.

They had set Nayib up, using Oola as a conduit to make a capture of Tom and Nubby likely for the prison plan. They had gotten the message obviously, taking him for his brother and for that he was very glad. Nayib didn't know as much as him by his own choice and they wouldn't be asking for more than they needed to since they didn't know his real identity. It almost made his head hurt to think about it.

He sighed and lay down, stretching out as best he could in irons. Archaic thing, leg irons. Something old fashioned in the middle of the Federation's modernity. He could almost smile if he wasn't so afraid. He knew that the Maquis would change everything and whatever the Federation took wouldn't be worth a damn by now. However it didn't lessen the concern and fear he felt about what might come. He was only human after all. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

**********San Francisco...

He stood on the tarmac watching the ship land. From a distance he could see it clearly, the shining letters of the Federation logo bright on its side. He put the glasses to his eyes, watching as the door opened. For a moment, there was nothing and then they came out trudging down the steps one by one.

First Beyvahl, the man they had in their grasp but didn't know. Then Tom Paris, tall, slim, blond and unchanged mostly from the last time he had seen him. They walked across the tarmac as best they could and clambered into a security transport for the ride to the lock up at Star Fleet HQ. He watched them leave and sighed. He would send the news home and watch what happened next. The Maquis would be informed and he would be activated, deep cover plant that he was all these years.

It paid to be a lowlevel functionary, someone who could listen and even delve into information without being noticed. It was easier than being a wheel. He sighed again and turned, walking across to the parking lot where his vehicle was waiting. He would drive to HQ and take his place in the background, ever watching and ever remembering the tale as it unfolded before him.

**********At the Sorrel Bay...

Harry sat at the console, working on a project that would clear up the ship's optics. He didn't try to think about Tom. He had been told by Chakotay, the older man seeking him out and telling him personally. Chakotay had looked terrible, letting his grief show through for a moment before the cold mask fell back in place. Harry had been rocked, his stomach turning over and all he could do was nod. He was sure his face conveyed all that he had felt clearly.

He had gone to see Tom in the Brig before, noting his anguish as he suffered through just thirty days of confinement. They had words. He had called Tom on his aversion to finishing his letter to his father. It was what Tom had needed to hear but it filled him with regrets and anguish. As he sat there every thing that had ever happened between them emerged, all the bad

Especially, and he felt choked by the effort to contain his emotion.

He sat a moment and then rose, walking from the room to a lounge just beyond. No one was there and he stepped in calling for a security lock. He stood in the middle of the room fighting tears, his fists clenched. He was here on this ship, far away from his family. Tom was on his way to prison and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He felt his knees give and he fell to them, tears falling from his eyes as he did. He sobbed and cried, both for Tom and himself, for the crew in prison already and for the Federation that he loved.

He was in alien territory, friendless and anguished. No one could tell how this would end. No one could assure him that some day he would walk into his house and into the arms of his mother and father. No one. So he cried and mourned for himself and for all of them alone in the lounge on the Sorrel Bay.

**********At the Star Fleet HQ High Security Lock Up...

They were taken off separately, each of them in chains and led down corridors past security check points. Tom was taken and put into a room, a table and three chairs the only adornment. He looked at them, at the mirrored window nearby and knew that interrogations would begin. He sat on a chair, composing himself as he waited. Next door, in an identical room, Beyvahl sat quietly.

He had made his peace with the spirits that had guided him his whole life. He would face this with the strength of generations behind him, with the courage of his culture and his faith. He would make them earn their answers. He wondered in his heart what would happen and he worried in his heart for Tom.

**********Minutes later...

The door opened and three men entered, staring at him like he was a special kind of specimen in an insect collection. Two of them took chairs across from him and the other, an older man, stood watching."We know who you are," one of them said, a Commodore.

Bey met his gaze impassively. The Commodore flicked open a padd. "You're Nayib of Dorvan V. You're an engineer, the son of Kolopak of Dorvan V and Maria. You have two brothers and three sisters and you are a Maquis."

Bey just stared.

"We want to ask you some questions."

Bey sighed and shrugged. The Commodore stared at him and sighed. "You answer them and we'll make sure that it's taken into consideration during your trial."

"You've already had it," Bey said softly. "I'm already convicted."

The Commodore looked at him and shrugged. "Answer my questions and we can be done with this."

Bey just stared at him with passivity. The older man watching turned and slipped out, the door closing behind him. Bey knew who he was, the nemesis of his existence, and he betrayed nothing. The Commodore looked at the window and nodded, turning his gaze onto his prisoner. The door opened and a technician walked in, carrying a black box with him. He opened it and a hypospray appeared. He turned and waited, the device in his hand. "If you answer our questions we can go easy on you."

Bey merely gazed at him silently.

**********At the Crazy Horse...

Chakotay walked in, bone-tired and emotionally drawn. It was dark but for a light in the bedroom. Tabor appeared in the doorway, dressed in sleep pants.

"Chakotay?" he whispered, his voice filled with anxiety and worry.

Chakotay looked at him, at his dark eyes and kind face. He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. "I'm all right, Tabor," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tabor walked to him, embracing Chakotay, and when he did Chakotay began to cry. He pulled Tabor close to him, crying his anguish into the darkness as they stood together. Tears slid from Tabor's eyes as he held Chakotay. It was a long day filled with misery and rage for all the Maquis. This would be a day they would never forget. This would be the first day of the rest of their revenge.

**********At Star Fleet High Security Lock Up...

He paused by the door, swallowing the rising emotion that gathered in his throat. It had been seven years, seven long years of changes and anguish. When he had first heard of Voyager's disappearance he didn't feel much. The wounds of Tom's humiliation too fresh in his mind, he couldn't give to the moment the emotion it deserved.

His son, his only son was missing and Owen Paris had seethed at it rather than grieved. Then it began, the long slow thawing of his heart. His wife's grief, the tears and anguish of his daughters had been the catalyst. He had come to a long dull ache along that path. The Pathfinder happened, Reg Barclay helping to find them and his anguish grew.

He hovered around the project checking in often and reading every particle of information over and over again. He was still stiff-necked, unwilling to let his anxiety have pride of place over everyone else's but he still wanted more than anything another chance with his son. Tom had come back, sidetracked into the enemy camp but with cunning and stealth he had captured him once more.

A door stood between them as well as years of suffering and stupidity. He was prepared to reach out but he was afraid. What if Tom rejected him? What if Tom's allegiance, surely the result of pressure and the experiences with the ship in the Delta, prevented him from understanding his father's desire to need him again?

He was afraid when the door opened, terrified but with typical Paris grit he stepped inside. Tom saw him, their eyes meeting for a silent moment of mutual surprise and emotion. "Tom." he said, standing rooted to the floor with fear.

Tom rose slowly, his eyes never leaving his father's. "Dad," he whispered, the chains on his feet clanking softly.

=0=


	10. Chapter 10

Book Ten: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

It was quiet when he arose and walked down the corridor. No one was about. It was a short walk to the lift and he took it, riding to the Bridge. He stepped off and walked across the floor, nodding to the skeleton crew that manned stations. Entering his Ready Room, he walked to his desk and sat, relaxing into the chair that was now his. She had sat here for years, working through a million problems that were now his to solve. He had stood before her desk, sometimes happy, sometimes filled with anger or frustration and they had talked.

They used to talk more. He thought of it as some kind of arc, the distance they had traveled together, rising from the low moments to achieve their high, only to fall back down again. She didn't trust him in the beginning, mostly confining her confidences to Tuvok. It had taken a long time for her to unwind her suspicions and include him, the debacle of the spy business a sorry moment between them even still. He thought about that, about the way Tom had acted and a dull ache rose in him. Tom had struck him down, the look in his eyes as he stood over Chakotay pained. He had risen from the floor, crimson with humiliation and surprise and it had taken tremendous power of will not to light into Paris at that moment.

He had been worried and concerned, the younger man's behavior mystifying. Then, when it all was made clear to him, he felt a burning sense of rage and humiliation that he knew even now was not assuaged. She hadn't trusted him. It rankled then and it was magnified over the years. He wondered how much of its magnitude was part of the Vedek's conditioning. He didn't know and part of him didn't care. It was as if someone else had lived that other life. This one, here and now, was the only one he had, the only one that counted any more.

He was driven to do work for the Maquis, to strike blows and to deliver victories. It filled his mind which was fine because it helped to dull his emotional turmoil. Tom was inprison, Bey was in prison. His father was in prison. The crew that had left was in prison. His sisters, their families and his brothers-in-law were in hiding and he was here, sitting on the Crazy Horse, supporting Nayib on whose shoulders it had all fallen.

Sometimes the magnitude of their struggle was so great he could hardly bear it. They were fighting goliath and even with a few victories the potential for defeat was ever present. A long talk the night before with Nayib had yielded a strategy that they intended to pursue. They would go for the big score. They would use all the technology that they had, all that they could buy, all that they could steal and make it work for them. They would force the Federation into a position of dealing with them by making the big score, the big steal, the big undeniable moment happen.

They had feelers out for cloaking technology. Friends on the fringes of the Romulan empire were hunting for it. When they had that they would be able to make the strikes that both of them had in mind. They would be able to do them with impunity. He closed his eyes, considering the talk he had with Tabor. The younger man had understood his pain and had been as up front about it as he had about Tom all along. They had talked and he felt microscopically better. He turned his chair and stared out, noting that the Sorrel Bay circled nearby. She was sleek and beautiful, a sight that normally warmed him but she didn't now. Nothing would for a long time.

Chakotay sighed and sat up, staring at the mass of work on his desk. Tomorrow they would stand out and begin to kick the Federation in the ass. By the end of the week they could have cloaking technology on board both the big ships and then they would be able to pursue their boldest plan, intercepting the diplomatic shuttle carrying the Federation President on his way to Khitomer. With a sigh he turned to his work.

**********Far away...

"Tom. I ... you look ..." He paused, speechless. "I don't know what to say."

Tom looked at his father, the images of omnipotence and size falling away. This man looked different, like he was someone else and in a way he was. The time between them was longer than the seven years they were lost. There were the years he served on his first ship, the time spent in disgrace from Caldik and the time he had languished in the Maquis. His father had not seen him in prison and he wouldn't have allowed it anyway. There was an ocean of time between them, an ocean of misery and wasted opportunity.

Tom stood and looked at him, the chains on him feeling like they weighed tons and he waited, unable to think of what to say either. He was a prisoner once again, someone in troubleand in chains. It never ceased, he thought, never ending moments of shame and humiliation and so he waited, unable to gauge the strange emotions on his father's face. "Tom, I ... sit," he said awkwardly.

Tom hesitated and then turned, sitting on the chair once more. His father moved, taking a chair across from him. He folded his hands as he gathered his wits. "Tom, I wish the circumstances were different. I ... I'm glad to see you, son."

Tom looked at him, emotionally detached from the moment and wondered what to say. He waited, sitting and staring at his father in a sort of stupor he hadn't felt in a long time. "Dad, why are you here?"

Owen Paris blinked, sitting up straighter. "I ... you're my son. I haven't seen you in ... in ten years."

Tom sighed, suddenly weary. "You never came to me before I went to prison. Why now?"

"That's just it, Tom. You're not going to prison."

Tom stared at him, his heart flip-flopping in his chest. He stared at his father, at his father's hope filled face. "What?" he asked stupidly.

"You're coming home."

He looked at his father, stunned. "What?" he asked again.

"Tom, I've taken care of everything. You're coming home and you can rest and talk to doctors. Tom ... I understand. I do."

Tom looked at him with dazed eyes. "You understand what?"

"That you're not yourself. That ... that the experiences you've had have harmed you. I read your record, the one that Janeway sent. You've done a ... a wonderful job, son. I'm proud of you. I interceded with the Prison Board and with Star Fleet and I got you paroled into my custody. You're coming home with me. Now."

"Everyone else is in prison, Dad. All the others, the 'Fleet crew. How can I come home with you when they're all in prison?"

"It's short-term, son. We have to make sure that no one knows Voyager was taken. All those years with Maquis, it had to make their fitness for duty with us again suspect. I have no control over what happened to them, only you. Only you, Tom."

He looked at his father's pained expression, at the desperation in his blue eyes. He had never seen that before, not in quite this way and it overwhelmed him. His father had interceded for him, taking him out of the loop of prison and confinement. He wanted to take him home, to his house and family. It was like stepping into another dimension. "Dad, I ... I can't-"

"You can. You *can*, Tom," Owen interjected. He reached out and touched his son's arm. "Please, just come home. I know when you're rested you'll see. I know that when the pressure is off and you have a chance to decompress you'll see that you're in the right place, with the right people."

Tom stared at him, a kaleidoscope of emotions and jumbled thoughts running through his mind. He didn't know what to do or think. The idea of prison had terrified him and now he heard that he wasn't going. He was going home. That thought terrified him too but it also was an opportunity. He wouldn't be behind bars. He would be home. Maybe he could get away and *do* something.

He licked his lips, thoughts tumbling one over the other as he struggled to assimilate this latest twist in his life. He looked at his father, his gaze even. "I have to see Nayib before we go."

His father sat back, regarding his son. "He's with Star Fleet Intelligence. You can't."

"Then I'm not going."

Tom sat and stared at his father, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned forward, his chains clanking. "I *have* to see him."

Owen stared at his son, his own emotional turmoil pounding in his ears and then he sighed, nodding. He didn't want to push his son, the advice of doctors ringing in his ears. "I'll see what I can do," he said, rising.

Tom watched him rise, his mask slipping. "Please, Dad. Please. I *have* to see him."

Owen stood uncertainly and nodded, turning and leaving through the door. Tom sighed and sat back, closing his eyes against the terrible weariness that flooded him. The world was upside down and he didn't know what to do. All he could do was sit and watch and wait for his moment to come.

**********Three hours later...

The door opened and Owen stepped inside, noting his son sitting dejectedly in a chair. His heart squeezed, the turmoil of their life rising in him as he felt every regret he had come to remember and collect stab at him. He had changed over the years, the thought of Tom's return becoming one of the most important tasks in his task-filled life. Pathfinder had crystallized his desires and hopes and now it had come to fruition. Tom was here. Harmed. Sad. Tormented even. But here. He looked up, meeting his father's eyes. "Tom, you can see him for a moment."

Tom rose and looked at him, his chains rattling. Owen turned and nodded to a security officer, the man stepping past him and releasing Tom's chains. He reached into his pocket and pulled a security bracelet free, bending down and reaching for Tom's ankle. Tom stepped back, waves of revulsion flowing through him as he stared with loathing at the device.

"Tom, you have to wear it. It's part of your parole."

"No," Tom said, the strain in his voice very clear.

"Tom, you *have to*."

Owen watched him, noting the distress on his son's face and his efforts to contain himself. Finally, rigidly, Tom stood and the man fastened it, calibrating it to the parole netfrequency. He rose and turned, leaving them alone. Tom stood, fists clenched and traumatized.

"It won't be long before it's off for good, Tom. Please. Just try..."

A thousand moments flashed through his mind, a thousand demands and a thousand admonishments but none were delivered with such a tone. Softness, sorrow, hope ... they were all there in his father's voice and he felt tears come to his eyes. It was all so awful that all he could do was nod slightly.

"Come on," Owen said gently, uncertain how to proceed. This kind of action, this kind of attention, he had no idea howto do. It didn't come naturally but his heart cried out to do it so he hesitated, waffling between telling Tom to suck it up and wanting to embrace him. "Please."

Tom hesitated and then stepped forward, moving past his father to the hallway. People stood there, silent faces staring and he felt the scrutiny to his bones. He shifted his expression, the mask firmly in place and walked beside his father, pausing by a door. He looked at his father and Owen nodded, opening it and letting Tom past him.

Inside, Bey sat, manacled and groggy, recovering from his session with Federation pharmaceuticals. He had defeated them, the conditioning that he had requested from his own side masking what he knew. Since they thought he was someone else, he didn't risk as much. No one had thought to ask him his name when they began and if they had, they would have discovered their mistake.

It was fortuitous indeed.

Tom moved to him, kneeling. He took Bey's face in his hands and noted that the grogginess would be passing. "Nayib..."

Bey looked at him, recognizing him after a moment and nodded. "Tom."

Tom leaned in and kissed him, lingering on his lips. "Nayib, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Bey said groggily. "I'm okay."

Tom kissed him again, again and again. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"I'm going to prison. What have they done to you, Tom?"

"Nothing." Tom felt bitterness rising and he swallowed hard. "I'm not going with you."

Bey looked at him with alarm.

"My father's taking me home."

Bey and Tom stared at each other a long time, speaking without words. Tom gazed at him, rubbing Bey's cheek with his hand. "I don't want to leave you."

Bey nodded. "You have to. It'll be all right."

"No," Tom whispered, his eyes never leaving Bey's. "It won't."

Bey nodded and Tom pulled him forward, the older man laying his head on Tom's shoulder as they embraced. Behind him, watching with surprise and turmoil, Owen Paris waited.

=0=

Book Ten: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

It had been nearly sanity threatening, stepping into his house and the waiting arms of his mother. She had cried and cried, clinging to him with desperation. Around him, crying and wringing their hands, his two sisters stood. Kathleen and Moira, as tall and beautiful as he could remember, they were there too. Two men, husbands he found out, stood behind them awkwardly. Solemn-faced children watched as the tall blond stranger wrought emotional havoc in his wake. It was a whirlwind, the emotional outpouring and he stood at the epicenter twisting in the eddies as they swirled around him.

For the first hour there was only an excited and disjointed conversation, him sitting on the couch, his mother clutching his hand and his family arrayed before him. It was strange unto weirdness but he answered their questions slowly and carefully. They wanted to know everything, the Delta experience, the Maquis, all of it. They asked their questions and he answered, caught in a miasma of unreality as on his ankle the bracelet softly hummed. It jarred him, this unexpected and strange detour and it was all he could do to maintain a level of calm in his rising distress.

Dinner followed and they ate together, the last time he could remember during his teenaged years. Oh, there were dinner parties he had to suffer through with crowds of 'Fleet people that were friends of his family but that was different. His sisters were gone by then, his mother well ensconced in a warm-hearted circle of women who shared her predicament and he, himself was nearly ready to leave the nest too. They ate together, making conversation. Tom found out that his sisters had graduated at the top of their classes, taking honors in graduate school as well. No surprises there. They had gone on to distinguished careers, their natural brilliance and typical Paris focus setting them apart from the herd. Marriage followed and children, Kathleen's two boys and Moira's girl the first and probably only grandchildren they would share. He watched them, noting the resemblance to his sisters and felt emotion washing through him. He had none of his own and probably never would. He would exist through his life and when he died disappear from everything. Nothing would carry on to show that he had even been here.

Tom sighed deeply, pausing as the morbid thought washed through him. He didn't see his father's worried eyes note his moment before he concealed it from view. Owen Paris felt pain and considered the doctors he had been consulting. They had told him to expect depression. Tom had been in an intensely stressful environment for years, struggling to survive against unspeakable odds. He would feel this way. Dinner passed and they adjourned to the living room, sitting on his mother's white couches. "Tell us about your friends, Tom," Moira asked, her dark eyes fixed on him.

He considered her, remembering that she had majored in psychology in college and wondered how much of her question was calculated to know his trauma and how much was curiosity. He shrugged noncommittally. "Proximity bred most of the relationships. I don't think that they will survive off the ship," he lied.

"What about companionship?"

He stared at her, images of his wife and his commander filling his mind. Tears brimmed unexpectedly, hot and stinging and he swallowed them. "I was married. I'm not now."

It was a declaration that surprised them, stilling the conversation for a beat or two. Moira sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her face was filled with compassion.

"Anyone we knew?"

Tom shrugged. "No. She was no one you would know."

"Maquis?" his father asked, his voice hanging in the air. Tom looked at him, noting unexpected anxiety in the dark eyes that once used to frighten him with regularity. He thought about it a moment and set that idea aside. He merely nodded.

"What was her name?" Kathleen asked gently, her mother sitting beside her equally tensed.

Tom rose and walked to the window, staring out at the ocean beyond. It was dark and the sea was a black mass, its surging power audible but unseen. He stared at it, remembering a dozen oceans on a dozen worlds that would never know a human footfall again. The salt air was warm, fresh and reinvigorating and he took a lungful as he considered answering. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters," he replied softly. He looked down at the bracelet on his ankle and then looked at his father. "None of it matters," he repeated softly.

It was quiet a moment and then Moira rose. "I think we better get going. Tom's probably tired and we have to get up early."

They gathered themselves together, all of them and after hugs, left. Tom's mother closed the door and turned, staring at her tall son looking out the window at the ocean. She glanced at Owen, biting her lip. "Tom, would you like some dessert?" his mother asked. "I made your favorite."

Tom turned, looking at her with rising emotion. He nodded, a slight smile crossing his face. She smiled, warmed by his effort and turned, walking to the kitchen beyond. His father stood by the door for a moment and then turned, walking to where he stood. They were alone, standing together and finally Owen turned to him, swallowing hard. "How do you feel, Tom?"

Tom thought a moment. "I don't know. Fine, I guess."

Owen sighed, moving closer to the open window.

"I couldn't let you go to prison. Not now."

"Twice would be tacky."

Owen flinched and then gathered his iron control. "The order in the beginning was to send you to prison. I couldn't allow it, not after Pathfinder. Not when there was hope for a second chance."

Tom turned and looked at him, considering his father carefully.

"Second chance for what?"

"To ... to know each other. To become a father and son and not be two strangers stepping around each other. When Pathfinder was created, I had no hope. Then we found you. I spent so much time there, listening and asking questions. It became an obsession. I wanted more than anything to know that you were all right, that you would be coming home."

"Other families have the same wishes, Dad. Their loved ones are in prison."

"I have no control over that, Tom," Owen said, shaking his head. "That's over and above what I can do anything about."

"Nayib, can you help him?"

Owen stared at Tom, images of him embracing the dark haired man filling his mind. "You're with him? This man?"

Tom folded his arms across his chest, his expression hardening.

"We're lovers," he lied.

Owen considered Tom's words. "I can't help him. He's a wanted criminal."

"So am I," Tom countered. "He's in prison and I'm not."

"I can't help that, son. I can only help you."

"By putting him in prison?"

"I wasn't responsible for that. Other people have him. I had to beg for you, Tom. I begged for your custody."

Tom stared at him, noting his distress, the image of his father begging filling him with dread and upset. "I can't imagine you begging for anything," Tom replied, his expression filled with unease.

"I did. I called in favors and begged."

Tom backed up, bracing against the edge of the window. "Why?"

Owen looked at him, emotion rising in his eyes. "Because I'm your father and you're my son." It was silent a moment and then Owen stepped forward. "Because I was a damned fool for too long and I'm sorry."

Tom stared at him as if he had transformed into an alien form before his eyes and in some small way he had. Tom turned, tightening the grip of his arms. "No."

"I am, Tom. I thought you were dead and all the days when I should have done different, they came to me in my dreams, in some moment that would happen. They all came to me and I was sick from the burden of it. I want you back and I want to make it up to you."

"Please..." Tom said, closing his eyes tightly.

"Think about it, son. I'll ... I'll let you think about it."

"Tom?"

His mother's voice called from the kitchen and he turned to it, uncertain about moving away. His father, sensing his turmoil, stepped back. Tom moved past him and walked to the door, pausing and looking back at his father. Then he turned and walked down the short hall to the kitchen beyond. Owen watched him go and sighed, filled with anxiety and hope. He didn't know how to say what he felt, the words that crowded his mind hanging up between his brain and his lips. He knew he had to say them, to banish them from his mind. Soon, he thought. They had time yet.

Tom stood by the table, noting the cherry pie on the table. Creamy white ice cream slowly melted next to it and he sat, his eyes focusing on his mother's handiwork. She sat, coffee cup in hand and watched him, her eyes searching him for harm restlessly. "Tommy, how do you feel?"

Tom paused, swallowing his pie, savoring it. "I feel fine, Mom."

"It's been so hard," she said softly. "It's been so hard to not know what happened to you, son. I cried until I had no more tears."

Tom sighed softly. "I ... I'm sorry, Mom."

"No, Tom. Don't."

He looked at her, noting her anguished face. "Mom-"

"No. Please. Tom ... don't apologize for things that aren't your fault. None of this was your fault. It's a miracle of God that you're back with us. I prayed, Tom, every night. I prayed to God every night that you'd be safe and I would see you once again."

"God." Tom sighed, a frown crossing his face. "I guess he heard you."

"He did." She took Tom's hand. "You came back to us. Your father has another chance."

"For what?"

"To show you what you mean to him."

Tom sat back, a cold look on his face. "I know what I mean to him."

"You don't," she replied. "Your father has come to realize a lot of things, Tom. He understands a lot of things. He knows he did wrong by you too many times."

Tom sighed and shook his head. "I can't ..."

"Don't," she said sharply. "Don't miss this chance. Don't let it go by. You were brought back to us from the grave. It's all different now. I want more, Tom. I want you back and I want your father to have a chance to make his peace with you. My whole life, Tom, I was in the middle. I tried to make it better for both of you. It was impossible. I want you to be happy and I don't think it will happen until you and your father make amends. Please, don't let this chance go by."

Tom stared at her with pained eyes. "Mom, there's so much that's passed by. I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand. "It will come, with a little time. He's trying. Please, let him have another chance. I know you won't regret it."

He sighed and nodded, squeezing her hand back. "It's been a long hard road. There's people in other places that mean everything to me."

"Your wife?" she asked gently.

He sat a moment and a sad look crossed his face. "I don't think that's going to ever be okay. I think it's over between us."

"This other one, this Nayib ... he's whom your with now?" she asked, rubbing his hand with hers.

Tom blinked with surprise.

"Your father told me about him."

Tom's face became sad again as images of Chakotay and the others filled his mind. "Yeah," Tom said softly. "I'm with him now."

=0=

Book Ten: Nuclear Winter 3/4

=0=

He walked into the cabin, moving quietly. Dinner had been earlier and a long conversation prompted by Tabor followed. He was glad he had given in, talking to the quiet Bajoran. He was soothing to frayed nerves. Moving into the bedroom, he stripped and quietly walked into the bathroom, stepping into the shower with gratitude. He had been working on the Crazy Horse and Sorrel Bay, working to make them ready for cloaking.

Sympathizers in the Romulan Empire had come through, bringing not only cloaking technology and the requisite power enhancers needed but counter measure technology that would prevent the Federation from detecting them. The cloaking devices were long known, the Federation opting for technology that would detect cloaked ships rather than equiping their vessels with the devices themselves. The Treaty of Algeron prevented the Federation from developing and using cloaking technology, something that the Maquis were not hobbled with and they worked overtime now to make themselves ready for the next part of their task.

He toweled off, finishing his routine, and after pulling on his sleep pants, walked into the bedroom. Tabor slept on his back, his arm thrown into Chakotay's space. Chakotay smiled and moved to the bed, climbing in and pulling Tabor to him. The Bajoran sighed and moved in, settling against Chakotay's chest. Chakotay lay quietly thinking, his hand stroking Tabor's bare back gently. All his thoughts wrapped around one core emotion, the burning and seething desire to rescue those who had been taken away from him. They would begin, striking the Federation across the DMZ. They were powerful enough and had struck enough alliances with non-aligned political entities to prevent the Federation from amassing forces and crossing the DMZ on missions of annihilation.

They also were keenly aware of the lack of support that such a thing would receive from a Federation populace seriously tired of war. Even as uniformed as most people were in the Federation, they wouldn't continence another war erupting. The Federation had to treat the symptoms, fighting the Maquis here and there, without making a fullscale attack on the disease that they represented to the good of the empire.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, images of his father and Tom fleeting through his tired mind. Tabor stirred and raised his sleepy head. "Hi."

"Hi, Tabor."

"You sound tired."

"I am."

"You don't get enough sleep, Chakotay. You're going to get sick and then where will you be?"

Chakotay grinned and pulled him close, kissing his lips softly.

"You'll take care of me."

Tabor grinned. "You and Nayib."

"Thank you for working with him. This is a heavy burden for him."

"Nayib is up to it. I like him. I like all your brothers."

"I do too," Chakotay whispered.

"We'll get them back. I know we will."

Chakotay squeezed Tabor, hugging him tightly. "I have to believe that. I have to believe this can't last forever."

"They're wrong, the Federation. They have to make amends out here. This will never be over as long s they ignore what they did."

"I know," Chakotay said, sighing.

"We'll get Tom back too."

Chakotay was silent a moment. "You're really a good man, Tabor. I will never understand what a good man you are."

Tabor raised his head and looked at Chakotay. "You came to me when you needed someone. Chakotay, I needed someone too. We were coming back and I was afraid. I don't have anyone. They're all dead. My grandfather and everyone. I was so afraid. When you came to me I needed you too."

Chakotay nodded and sighed. Tabor shifted, moving up to kiss him. Chakotay caressed him with his hands, Tabor's smooth skin soft beneath his fingers. The younger man lingered, kissing him on the lips softly, over and over. They caressed and then Tabor settled down, sighing with contentment.

"You saved me too, Chakotay," he whispered, his eyes closing as Chakotay's fingers stroked his thick black hair.

Chakotay sighed, his mind filled with images of better times. They would work on the ships and get them ready for the mission ahead. They would run to Khitomer and take the Federation President and his party hostage. If that didn't facilitate some top level dealing, what would? He closed his eyes and drifted slowly off to sleep.

**********On the Sorrel Bay...

She materialized, moving toward the clutch of officers that were working on installing the cloaking technology. It had arrived a few days ago and after strategizing thoroughly on how to make it work on the two ships, they had begun the delicate work. Cargo decks held the auxilliary power cells that were required and they had rerouted all the myriad of conduits, tubes and other errata to their proper place, Main Engineering.

She lived and breathed her work. She slavishly pushed herself to complete tasks ahead of time. The refit of Sorrel Bay would not have been accomplished on the schedule they had achieved had she not been there exorting, pushing and showing with her own example the kind of speed and toughness that were necessary. They had accomplished miracles and she was a lot of the success. They would be able to strike back at the Federation and that would be good she thought, pausing to watch a power fluctuation. That would be very, very good.

B'Elanna Torres-Paris turned and walked to the main console, prepared to throw the main switch. All her attention was on the job at hand. None of it was spared for other, nonconsequential things. Like her husband.

**********Morning, at a far away place...

Bey bent to the task, pulling weeds from a row of carrots, the sun overhead beating down on him like a baton. Nearby, working his own row, his father watched him from the corner of his eye. He couldn't believe that his son was there. He was shattered to see him and they had clung to each other, crying unashamedly. Word had been spread that Nayib was with them. No one else knew him as anything else. The Maquis imprisoned wouldn't tell otherwise. His secret was safe.

Kolopak stood and removed his hat, wiping sweat from his brow with a bandana. His son paused and rose watching him with concerned eyes. Kolopak smiled, nodding once and Bey felt relief fill looked around at the towers that watched them and sighed deeply. His goal now was to protect his father. That was deed numer one to accomplish. Goal number two was to be ready for whatever Chakotay and Nayib concocted. He knew they were working on something to get them all out and he knew he had to be ready to do his part.

He sighed and looked at the dry earth and the small plants that depended on his care. Shaking his head, he leaned down and began to work at the only task that would be his for the next unforseeable future amount of time. Behind him, Sek of Vulcan worked with them, doing his part to put food on their table. The three of them were a team and they would stay together, waiting for the time when they would be set free.

**********San Francisco...

He stood on the corner, civilian clothes barely hiding his identity. He was nervous and upset, knowledge of what had happened to Voyager plaguing him. Reg Barclay considered them his family, his friends and companions. He had a lot of identification with them, their plight, their loneliness and their vulnerability. It had led to breakthroughs in contacting them, in finding them out there in the big dark void.

Now they were back and he had learned of their fate. Some were in prison and some were with the Maquis. He couldn't hardly conceive of it. They should have been welcomed like heros. They should have been given a great big welcome. Instead they were locked up or hunted. He stood on the corner staring at the big white house on the beachside of the street and wondered what he could do to help. Inside, probably under some sort of house arrest, Thomas Eugene Paris languished. Admiral Paris, someone Reg had come to know slightly in the year of conversations and hunting they had experienced together would be the one in charge of his son's house arrest. He knew that the Admiral would never let him see Tom but he knew he had to find a way. So he stood on the street and wondered, his formidable but convoluted intellect working overtime on a way to breach the silence.

**********Nearby, in another place...

He stared at his orders, the words imprinted on his mind as he erased the padd in his hand. He had gone to a cafe to get his orders. It had been a long time since he had felt this alive. Deep plant status for the Maquis often meant never being used but now he was and it filled him with a powerful sense of emotion.

He would take a piece of the Federation and snap it in two. It would help assuage the flame that burned constantly inside him since the first time he had discovered that he was nobody. All the years in a Cardassian prison camp had hardened him and he was prepared to suffer to achieve his goals. The sun streamed down and he sat sipping his wine, the swirl of men and women around him a balm to the fire that filled him.

He had come back and achieved, using his formidable intellect and obsessive drive to achieve. He had risen in a shuttle company, turning it into a contender and then branching out into other lucrative businesses. He was a very weathy man with contacts all over the place. He wasn't in Star Fleet, the Federation thinking him too ... suspect might be too big a word ... to allow him into the service that was his too.

Tom Riker finished his wine and rose, paying the smiling waiter for his drink. He grinned and turned, noting that people watched him as he departed. He was famous now, for more than having a familiar face, and he was powerful. These two things he gave to the Maquis with pleasure. The life he should have had never happened, thanks to Star Fleet and his 'brother' but the one he had now, inspite of all his hardships and suffering, was better. From this platform he was ready to help the only people that had ever accepted him. The Maquis.

**********At the Paris home...

He sat on his bed, noting that his room looked the same as it had when he left home for the Academy across town. It was familiar and comforting, the relics of a time long gone. He had used this room for a refuge, often crying himself silly inside these walls. He rose and walked to the window, looking out at the sea beyond. Tomorrow, his father would have doctors here to talk to him. He was convinced that Tom suffered from some kind of hostage syndrome and that if he was gently decompressed he would re-emerge the man he once was.

Tom considered that man, that desperate and seeking individual and decided he didn't want to be that man. He didn't want that wrenching loneliness, that staggering hurtful seeking that drove him to do stupid and dangerous things, like join the Maquis. He needed someone and they were there, needing him as badly. He wasn't in very good shape, coming down off a long period of drunken self abuse. Chakotay had been there, patiently helping him ... or as much as Tom let him.

He had been a bastard, self-destructing in small jagged bursts. Finally he had gotten his act together, the redemption of flying pulling him back from the brink. Flying, driving, skiiing fast, it all had the same effect. It took him from reality and freed him from the bonds of the world and all its unattainable demands. Chakotay had been the same way. He had been a rush of speed that Tom had wallowed in when he was too fucked up to see what he had. Chakotay had coaxed him back from oblivion, drying him out and literally washing him from head to toe. He had come on to the tall quiet man and Chakotay had almost taken that step.

But he hadn't. He wouldn't. Tom was still half fucked up and Chakotay would never impose himself on a helpless man no matter how much he wanted him. Tom could sense it then and he could sense it when they served together on Chakotay's ship. But on Voyager it had not been there, the tall dark man alternating between raging anger and bemusement at his antics.

And antics they often were.

Tom sighed, remembering the last time that they had been together. They had kissed frantically, holding each other under alien stars. It had been the last moment they had been alone together and maybe in the grand scheme of things, it would be the only time. Maybe fate had just given them that moment to make the rest of their lives just that much more miserable. Maybe they were supposed to just taste the possibilities before the universe landed on them, crushing them to death under its infinite was all too possible.

He regretted not sleeping with Chakotay. He regretted not having him in his body, feeling him touching him in places only a lover could and he felt every inch of his disappointment right now, standing at his window, staring into the dark night at the crashing sea beyond. He put it on the list of regrets that he would eternally pay for, the list that was topped with B'Elanna's name and as he stood there, he knew that when he could he would divorce her. Standing where he stood, far away from everything and everyone that mattered, he suddenly realized that there was nothing left in his heart for her. All he had room for now were memories of Chakotay. In the long run, given the nature of his life and luck and the way things ran, it would be the only thing that he would have of that quiet, dark-eyed man.

He sighed deeply and stood silently as tears slipped from his eyes and ran down his face, drying in the warm breeze that ruffled the curtains beside him.

**********Far away...

Tuvok rose and went through his routine. He ate breakfast and walked to the Bridge of Crazy Horse. Chakotay nodded to him and he continued on, following both Chakotay and Nayib into the conference room. With them, already seated, were several Maquis that Tuvok knew were involved with intelligence. He sat and they began. The Federation President would be attending a meeting to be held at the Peace facility on Khitomer. He would be travling with his staff on a fast and well-armed ship. No one would be told of his where abouts as the meeting pertained to Federation-Romulan business negotiations, something in the delicate stages at the moment. They would be waiting, cloaked and ready and take them by force if necessary. Once they had them then they would have bargaining chips that the Federation would have to deal for.

"You will command the Sorrel Bay, Tuvok," Nayib said, nodding to the Vulcan on his right.

He nodded back. "Very well."

"We're waiting for news from Earth on a number of things but in the meantime, we want both of you to do some damage along the DMZ."

Chakotay and Tuvok nodded.

"No problem," Chakotay said, his voice as grim as his expression.

"Indeed," Tuvok echoed, leaning back in his chair.

=0=

Book Ten: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

They finally gathered their things and walked into the den, shutting the door behind them. It had been a two-hour interview, questions asked both general and specific, and Tom had endured it with stoic grace. It was part of his parole, he would be told later, and that they were all determined to bring back the man Tom was from the man he now had become.

Depression would be a part of the equation and his nervous tension, that would be a part of the whole syndrome that they had discovered fit his symptoms. Apparently, he was a man with a syndrome. Sighing, he walked to the couch and sat on his knees, resting his arms on the back, staring out at the sparkling sea where boats sailed. He used to do this for hours as a child and it felt comforting once more to be here, staring at the graceful slips as they sailed past his house.

He wondered for the ten thousandth time where Chakotay was. He wondered what he was doing. He wondered if anything had happened to Bey. Sighing, he sat back, resting his head against the couch, his eyes closing. Nearby, watching with anxiety, his mother stood. She hovered, she knew, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't look at him enough to satisfy the hunger that had grown inside of her. She missed him.

She licked her lips and walked over, sitting beside him. Tom's eyes opened, meeting hers and then gently she pulled him over, resting his head in her lap. He sighed and settled, closing his eyes once more. She stroked his hair and they sat together, the breeze from the window blowing softly as small ships sailed past unseen.

**********Far away...

He sat at his desk considering the situation. They were going to get the President of the Federation. Intelligence delivered told them that he was going to a Klingon meeting on Khitomer with a small staff on an unmarked ship. They would be flying directly, the ship heavily armed, and leave equally directly. It was a show the face of the Federation to the allies sort of thing and it would not due to draw attention to its progress.

Chakotay knew they could take the bastard, his ship not withstanding, and pull him into limbo. The Federation, suddenly faced with a secret sortie gone wrong, would only have the idea that the President was lost. Where would he be, they would have to ask, when his entire party and ship suddenly fell off the net?

The cloaking technology was nearly completely installed and they would be taking both ships out for a shakedown run. The scanners and sensors that were added, those designed to give false readings back to enhances Federation ships were taking longer.

The Federation had signed off on cloaking technology with their Khitomer agreements. They would not use them. They were explorers and scientists, not spies and sneaks. They would develop ways to read cloaked ships but they would not cloak. That technology, the detection equipment, had been sent to them some time before and now they would be able to use it.

It would take a bit of time to coordinate and to work out the bugs but it would be on line and they would be able to do what they planned to do, to take back their people by taking someone else's. He tossed down his stylus and considered his emotional state. He was tense, filled with turmoil and a boiling need to punish someone. Tom was gone. He was in Federation custody and god only knew what was happening to him. It filled Chakotay with a terrible fear.

Here, he had moved to work longer hours, spending less and less of his time free. It helped him manage his fears. Tabor had been life-saving, helping him with the work. They still lived together. They still had a relationship. It was still Chakotay's refuge to come home to him at night. But as wonderful as Tabor was, he wasn't Tom.

Chakotay rose and walked to the window, staring at the men and ships outside working around the clock to get things done. Tomorrow, probably, they would stand out and do their shakedowns. Tomorrow, they would be able to move along the DMZ and cross over. The plan was to find Enterprise and shadow her, seeing if her detection equipment would find their signatures.

They would also run through their own technology, using their enhanced sensors to turn back any scanner that she might possess. They would fade into just another part of space, an anomaly or something else easily detectable. If they were going to run on the other side of the border, they had to know that they wouldn't be seen.

He sighed and turned, noting the hour. Tapping his comm badge, he sighed. "Chakotay to Tabor."

"Tabor here."

"Come up, Tabor."

"On my way."

In minutes the slim Bajoran would be there and they would eat dinner together. They would talk and then they would go to bed together, making love in the darkness of their cabin. Chakotay would sleep in Tabor's arms and Tabor would rub his back. The next day they would get up and do it all over again.

**********Another day, in another place...

Jean-Luc Picard sat at his command seat and stared at the screen. They were patrolling along the DMZ in the area that Sorrel Bay had disappeared. He knew the full story, the ship had been taken by the Maquis as a way to deliver false information to the enemy. It disturbed him to know that they sacrificed an entire ship to accomplish this. One hundred, fifty-two crew were sacrificed along with an irreplaceable ship. He was filled with disquiet that their determination to capture a Maquis leader had taken precedent over the safety and well-being of fellow officers.

The politics of the Federation, especially following the successful conclusion of the Dominion War eluded him. He wasn't much of a political animal, avoiding that part of his job description as much as possible. However, hard-liners had taken control of the Federation High Council and a lot of their fears and biases and burning desires to exact retribution had formed a lot of recent policy.

Now he had to be on the alert, hunting for more Maquis fooled by the false information that Janeway had unwittingly delivered to the enemy. They had captured a Maquis shuttle carrying Tom Paris and the brother of the one they burned to capture. A spy inside the Maquis safe zone had told them that Nayib, brother of Beyvahl, was heading out in a shuttle. They had taken and delivered him as they were directed.

Now they waited for another shuttle and another member of that family. It would be a major blow against the Maquis to take Beyvahl. All they had to do was get information about when the Maquis meeting was to be held that he would attend. It had to be soon. It had to be. Then they would be ready. He sighed and glanced at Deanna Troi who sat next to him.

She was silent and relaxed, sitting in the chair that was hers, waiting for him to need her. She had become glued to his side after hearing about the Sorrel Bay and the disappearance of Wesley and Geordi. Whatever she could do to help find them again, she was prepared to offer. He leaned back and relaxed, watching the endless parade of stars fill his screen. Where were you, he wondered, considering his foes. Where in the area are you?

**********Nearby, at the same time...

They flew in cloaked mode, the huge power cells in their holds and hangars supplying and regenerating the energy to run the cloaking devices at their peak without shorting the ship. This technology didn't require them to de-cloak to fire their weapons. Their energy source was separate and distinct from their ship's warp core.

Chakotay sat at his command seat and watched as space flew past, keenly aware that Sorrel Bay, now called Liberty, flew at his side equally stealthily. Tuvok commanded her, his own position subordinate to Chakotay's overall control. They were a well-oiled machine, anticipating their position and collateral moves almost without talking. They worked on a command system that was heavily encrypted, using a combination of Hirogen, Species 8427 and Talaxian speech -generously mixed- for ship-to-ship communications.

It was of such a volatile dynamic, the universal translator couldn't decode it. However, the crew on board Liberty and Crazy Horse could. As they flew on, they noted that their sensors were scanning wider than usual and deeper due to being piggy-backed on top of each other. They were cutting a wide swath across the DMZ when they noted a Federation signature.

"Chakotay to Tuvok. I think we've found Enterprise, Second One."

"Affirmative. Pattern Alpha Blue?"

"Affirmative. First One out."

They split up and triangulated their sensors on the empty space between them, using the signature as a stationary fix. Soon they came upon Enterprise, flying fast and alone along the DMZ. Moving with care, they took up stations on either side of her, their sensors masked in the dampening effect of their cloaking devices.

Enterprise was huge, bigger than both and she was stately even as she was lethal. Chakotay watched her, his dark eyes scanning her lines. Data poured in. She had a full compliment of shuttles, was fully armed and had a full crew compliment which if you added family dependents and civilian attaches, number nearly eleven hundred people. They settled in, flying alongside of her and as they did, they tested their mettle along with their equipment in this one only shot at proving their effectiveness for Khitomer.

**********Enterprise Bridge...

It was routine and he sat slightly bored with it all. He rose and turned, looking at his number one. "I'll be in my Ready Room."

Riker nodded and watched as Picard turned and left the Bridge. Sitting next to him, Troi watched too and then turned her dark eyes to the screen beyond. She stared at it, vaguely disturbed by feelings she couldn't sort out and then she rose and slipped into Picard's chair, leaning over to Riker as she did. "This feels strange."

"What?" Riker asked, looking at her with interest.

"I don't know. I feel like someone's looking over my shoulder."

"Nerves. Everyone is upset about the Sorrel Bay."

"True," she agreed, leaning back. "Beverly hardly leaves her quarters after shift. I can't get her to talk about Wesley."

"Give her time. It doesn't mean that Wes is dead. He's likely a prisoner in one of their camps."

"That can't be good either."

"It's better than being dead."

She considered that and sighed. "True," she finally replied. "I wish I could figure out what's wrong."

"Nerves," Riker insisted. "Come to my cabin tonight and I'll give you a back rub."

She grinned slightly. "You're on."

She settled back and opened her mind, listening for something more than the very low murmur of voices that were indistinct. Beyond her reach, something lie. She didn't know what it was but it worried her. A lot.

**********San Francisco...

He watched the other man, noting how he hovered around the corner. Sitting in his limousine, Tom Riker noted that Reg Barclay looked like a man with a mission and no way to accomplish it. Leaning forward, he tapped his driver's shoulder and the ground vehicle slipped forward, driving until they were alongside the nervously pacing man. The window slid down soundlessly and Riker leaned forward, smiling at the startled face of Barclay.

"Commander. What are you doing here? I thought you were with Enterprise."

"It's a long story, Reg. Get in and I'll tell you all about it."

Hesitating only for a moment, Reg Barclay slid into the luxurious car and together, they drove away from the curb and disappeared into the afternoon crowd in the city.

**********Nearby...

Tom sighed as he lay on the lounge chair, soaking up the sun on his parent's back deck. He wore cut offs and no shirt, dark glasses for his eyes and he was barefooted, the security device silently sending its signal from its place around his ankle. He had spent the night before working on figuring it out, this model being even more advanced than the one he had worn at Auckland.

Everyone was either at work or in another room, nervously going about their business as they struggled to help him. He was aware of their tension and it added to his own. His sisters were in and out, their children hovering in the background and their husbands talking about going golfing and to the beach house up in Big Sur.

He hoped they did. He was determined to get this bracelet off and make his way back to the DMZ. Of course, the possibilities were probably nil that he would make it but he had to try. Everyone and everything that mattered, deeply and consequentially, was out there. His friends were facing goliath without him and he was terrified that they would be killed without him. He had come to grips with his mortality a long time ago. He had given his loyalty to the ship and her people. Things were all different now, Janeway was the enemy and the Maquis the good guys but it didn't matter. His loyalties were still there.

He had to get back and help with the plans to rescue the others. It was becoming his consuming obsession. They needed him and he needed them. He had to get the hell out of here. He sighed and closed his eyes, the warmth of the ancestral sun of his home world cold comfort to his aching and lonely heart.

=0=


	11. Chapter 11

Book Eleven: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Ten Forward, Enterprise...

"You look nervous."

"I feel nervous."

"Why?"

Guinan put a glass down in front of Deanna Troi and regarded her with interest.

"I have this feeling that someone is looking over my shoulder."

"You too?"

Troi looked at her with surprise. "You feel it?"

"I do."

"What do you feel?"

"Like someone is looking over my shoulder."

Troi sighed and sipped her drink. "Maybe it's the area. Maybe it's the war that has never ended."

"You'll feel better when we have some down time. I hear that we're going to put in at Dorvan V. The shipyards they've built there are ready to take us."

"So I've heard. I hear it's a beautiful place."

"You and Will should take some time off and visit there."

"Maybe we will. It's been a while since we were alone without stress and obligation."

"Good," Guinan said smiling. "Settled."

Troi smiled and considered the possibilities. They could be alone and recuperate. It made her feel better even if it didn't alleviate the sensation of being watched.

**********On the Bridge of the Crazy Horse...

Chakotay watched Enterprise, the ship's glistening sides gleaming as she flew through the night. Beyond her, paralleling her, Liberty flew as well. In their present condition they could destroy Enterprise, taking her out of the picture. And if they did they would blow their cover. After the President is captured, Chakotay thought, after we have him then we can see about you, Picard. Maybe I can even the score for Dorvan V. He leaned back and sighed. "Status, Harry?"

"We're five by five, Captain. Enterprise doesn't know we're here."

"Good. Keep it that way for thirty minutes more and we'll break it off."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, concentrating on his new equipment. The stealth required for this maneuvering tested his skills and after a momentary jolt of emotion, he felt an almost sexual rush from the process of paralleling an enemy unseen. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

**********Later that night...

They sat together in the hot water, candles lit and soft music playing, balm to their tensions. She set her wine glass down and half rose, resting on her knees. Taking a sponge, she began to rub his chest, smiling at his look of pleasure. "We're heading for Dorvan V shortly. Let's take a vacation.

It's been a while since we were together."

Will Riker grinned and nodded. "I hear it's a beautiful place."

"So did I," she agreed.

"Maybe a beach or the mountains," Will suggested.

"I like the beach idea," Will said, sipping his wine as her hand slipped the sponge under the water line. He sighed and closed his eyes in pleasure.

**********In a hotel behind Maquis lines...

"Tell us."

"I don't have that information."

"You have access to them. Your other information paid off. Find out."

She looked at him, noting his wheedling expression and sighed. "You Federation spies, you're so demanding."

He grinned and shifted, nuzzling her bosom. "You Midran are so sexy. Find out for me, Oola. We have Nayib, just like you told us. Now find out about Beyvahl."

She looked at him and sighed, noting that they hadn't even gotten around to sex yet. It was mostly rolling around on the bed, wheedling and whining. "What is it with you?" she asked him, sighing tragically. "You're never satisfied."

He grinned. "It's hard to be satisfied with a woman like you. You're a bottomless pit of sexiness. If I weren't married I would be seriously after you."

"I can just see that. 'Mother? This is Oola. She's a prostitute that I banged when I was in deep cover in Maquis territory. By the way, she has a dick."

He chuckled, kissing her with passion. "My mother would love you."

"Right. So, are we going to have some fun or not?"

"Promise me."

"I promise. I'll see what I can do."

"Good enough for me."

With that, the conversation ended and the work began. She gave him bang for the buck and when she left, dressed in white silk, he lay on the bed totally satisfied. She had told him what the Maquis wanted. Sorrel Bay was too damaged to use and would be cannibalized for parts for Voyager. The Federation would be tricked into believing that she was offline. As for the capture of 'Nayib' and Tom Paris, the Revolutionary Council was regrouping and all was changed. It would make no difference now. All that Nayib might know was old news.

Oola walked down the stairs and out onto the street. She rounded a corner and entered a ground car that sped off into the night. Ten minutes later she exited the car and entered a warehouse, following a man who took her to a small office. The two tattooed men, related obviously to the one that was taken, were sitting there waiting for her. She sat on a chair and took the drink offered her.

"So, did they buy it?"

She smiled, her red lips glistening. "Hook, line and sinker, as I believe you call it."

Nayib nodded and rose, walking to the window. "I want you to tell them that Sorrel Bay is being towed away to another berth removed from this place. It won't be coming back for now. We're using it for salvage and we want it removed from here so it won't get in the way of normal operations. That will explain why it won't be here." He turned and regarded her. "Tell them that the Council has cancelled their meeting due to Nayib's capture. Tell them that it will be rescheduled pending a review of security measures. Tell them that the man you're banging now is in love with you and spills his guts because he trusts you. I want you to go out on dates with my brother, Chakotay. They'd pee their pants to think that they have a source as highly placed as him."

All eyes turned to Chakotay who sat silently on the corner of a desk.

"Tell them that Chakotay is my brother if they don't know already and that he's Bey's right arm. Tell them that he captains the Crazy Horse if they don't know. They should buy whatever you tell them without a qualm. As it is, they're thinking with their dick, not their heads."

She grinned slightly. "Wouldn't you?"

He looked at her and then smiled brightly, shaking his head.

"Considering what a babe you are, yeah. Probably."

She leaned back slightly mollified by his words. He grinned at her. "Do you have any questions?"

She shook her head no.

"Good. Tomorrow night, dancing and then back to your place with Chakotay."

She nodded and rose, pausing to consider the big man staring at her with unreadable eyes. "I don't suppose you want to make it real?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I like men."

"No problem there," she purred.

"One certain man."

She pouted prettily and they all smiled. "Mores the pity. With that, she turned and walked to the door, stepping out with the man who brought her. Nayib sighed and turned to Chakotay.

"That is one hot piece," he said, grinning at Chakotay's laugh.

"Yeah, well, so is Tom."

Nayib regarded him silently. "Still pining."

"Forever," Chakotay replied quickly. "Nayib, can I ask you a favor?"

"Shoot."

"Keep Tabor when we go on the Federation run?"

"Why?"

"I don't want anything to happen to him if this fucks up. If he's with you then I know he'll be safe. He deserves this, Nayib."

"Your run with Enterprise, it was successful?"

"It was," Chakotay agreed. "But I want to know that if something pops up and we get fucked Tabor is in the clear."

Nayib nodded. "All right. Hard duty, that one."

Chakotay grinned and rose, tired and hungry. "Let's get a bite and talk about the raid. Two days, Nayib and all hell will break loose."

"'Bout time," Nayib said with characteristic bravado. "You'll pull this off, Chakotay. I have faith in you."

"Thanks, Nubby," Chakotay said, walking to the door with his brother. "Two days and counting."

"Take Oola to dinner tomorrow night and dancing. Then go to her place for an hour or two."

Chakotay nodded.

"I'll make sure that the bastards know about it and come out of their hiding hole. Did you know that they're working on the docks? They're loading refugee ships with provisions."

Chakotay nodded. "When this is over-"

"Not to worry," Nayib said grimly. "Not to worry one bit."

**********Far away, evening...

Tom stared at the bracelet on his ankle and considered what he would do once he popped it off. He would only have seconds. Federation Security would beam in immediately and he had to be ready to run. In his neighborhood, there were few places to

hide so he studied the neighbors, their ground cars and their schedules. A judicious search of the computer database gave him all the information he needed to steal a car and get lost into the crowds.

Identity papers and other such things would be harder. One thing at a time, Tommy boy, he said to himself as he reached for a small tool. What money he could salvage was in his pocket. He wore comfortable clothes and good shoes. He knew he could go as far as the edge of his lawn before the trigger would go off so he let himself out of the window dropping soundlessly to the grass below.

He turned and slunk along the side of the house pausing by a big bush before slipping to a tree beyond. A fast ground car was parked across the street and he knew in seconds how to turn it on and speed away. With a deep breath he knelt down and picked the combination apart on the bracelet thatshackled him to his prison. It stopped beeping and fell off. Before it hit the ground, Tom was across the street and in the car, rigging it to go. As he tore out flashing past where the bracelet lay, two men with arms materialized on the lawn. Stepping on the accelerator, he sped on into the night and freedom.

**********A shuttle port on Dorvan V...

He stared at all the soldiers and 'Fleet personnel walking from the shuttle terminal to the transport vehicles beyond. They moved on, driving out to god only knew where. He noted that the build up had been impressive. It was especially impressive when you considered that this was the home world of the Federation's most wanted criminals, Nayib, Chakotay and Beyvahl.

He turned and noted his nervous companion. Smiling, he nodded and they both stepped out. Crossing the port, they stepped outside where a car was waiting for him. A man drove them on into the night to a house rented from him under an assumed name. It was very dark when they arrived and stepped out under the velvet sky.

Tom Riker took a deep lungful of fresh air, sighing audibly as he turned to his partner. "Nice place, don't you think, Reg?"

Reg Barclay looked at him and nodded. "I'd like it a lot better if I knew where Voyager was."

"In good time, Reg, in good time," Riker said, a wolfish smile crossing his face.

=0=

Book Eleven: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

At a restaurant...

"You don't look like you're having fun."

"Sorry. I guess I'm not the 'fun' type."

"Is it because I'm a working girl?"

"No," Chakotay asked, his expression softening. "That has nothing to do with it."

"Then it's that man that you love. He's broken your heart."

Chakotay looked at her and sighed. "Probably. But it wasn't his fault."

"It never is. Love is complicated. Among my kind, we aren't exclusive. We find a lover and stay with them as long as we wish and then we find another, sometimes at the same time."

Chakotay grinned. "Sounds casual. I'm not the casual type."

"So it would appear," she said, studying him closely. "Did he know that you love him?"

"Not until it was too late. He's married."

"Ah," she said, considering this new piece of information.

"So, he's married and you're filled with remorse because you didn't tell him until it was too late."

"Something like that."

"Does he love her?"

"He did until things changed. I don't know what he feels now. I'm not sure he does either."

"Have you slept with him?"

"No."

"Then you missed your chance to show him how you feel. Obviously you aren't much with words."

He looked at her, at her dark exotic beauty and sighed. "You're one direct broad."

She grinned. "We're lovers, remember? What kind of 'lover' would I be if I didn't tell you straight from my heart what matters?"

Chakotay grinned. "I hear you're pretty unique."

"Perhaps I'll show you ..."

He looked into her dark eyes, framed by a cloud of red hair and sighed. "You tempt me."

"Good. You had me worried for a while there."

He grinned and looked at the dance floor. "Care to dance?"

"Are you ready to hold me like a lover?"

"Sure," Chakotay said, rising.

She rose with him and they walked to the dance floor, finding a spot among the many already there. He held her close, the fragrance of her perfume filling his senses. Her red lips were this close to his and he felt the feline beauty of her exotic body pressing hard against his as he held her tightly in his grip. "You feel good."

"I feel better when I'm naked."

He chuckled and smiled. "You're incorrigible."

"I like sex, men and women, hard men who won't give in. I'm amazing in the sack. I give the best head around."

"Head I might consider."

"Good," she said, smiling. "I'm making headway, pun intended. You worry me as a professional woman. Your reticence is daunting."

"Your persistence is charming."

They danced together, keenly aware of three men sitting around the room, their own gaze firmly upon the tall exotic woman and the man holding her tightly. He was Chakotay, the criminal wanted for much and they ached to take him. However, he was more useful to them as a source of information since it was clear that he and Oola had a relationship that was more than business.

They danced together, Oola nibbling on Chakotay's ear, whispering sexually charged words as they swayed together. He let her, finding in the abandon of the moment a bit of relief from the tightly coiled tension that had filled him for days. She was mind fucking him and he let her. She wanted to bang him, he was a challenge he knew, and she might get her way he thought, the hardness within him, even present since their return, twisting around the coldness in his chest.

They danced and then they sat, eating and talking together. When they were done, they walked out hand in hand and headed for her apartment on a fashionable street off the main business sector. Behind them, following at a discreet distance, three Federation spies walked, noting every twist and turn of the scene ahead of them. So intent were they, they didn't notice that behind them, two Maquis followed too.

**********Dorvan V...

They sat on the porch, watching the sun rise. Breakfast had been accomplished and they now waited. Enterprise would be coming soon and they would be ready to make their move.

Reg Barclay sipped his coffee, watching the sky streak red and pink. "His mother is nearby."

"I know."

"She's under house arrest."

Tom Riker nodded. "She hasn't done anything wrong."

"I know. I don't understand this. I don't like it a bit."

"You and me both. However, shortly we'll make our contribution to freedom and we won't look back. You'll look good in Maquis leathers, Reg."

"I don't know about that," he fretted. "I do know that I can't sit around and wait for something to happen. I want to be with Voyager."

"In due time, Reg," Tom reassured as he considered what he was planning to do. It would be risky but he would hold all the cards. Also, he had the added benefit of being a perfect copy. When he took Riker's place, no one would know the difference. There would be none, physically. With a smile, he relaxed and propped his feet up on the porch railing. Reg noted his composure and sighed, propping his feet up too. All they had to do now was wait for Enterprise to come.

**********San Francisco...

He abandoned the ground car and hurried through the night, arriving at the transport station near the freight office. He slipped through the darkness and found what he was looking for. Sliding into the freight car, he found a place in the back where he would hide. No one would find him here and the long train of cars soon began to move, heading north through California and into Oregon. When he got there, he would figure out how to get to France. If he could find Sandrine, she would be able to help him get off Earth. All he had to do was cross the United States, the Atlantic Ocean and half of France. Piece of cake, he thought ruefully, pulling the collar of his light jacket up around his ears. With a sigh, he settled in for the ride.

**********At the house...

His parents listened to the security guard brief them, the details of Tom's escape and whereabouts in flux. He nodded and the guard left.

"What now, Owen?" Miriam asked, staring at her husband with fear in her eyes.

"We'll find him, honey," he said, filled with a dread that was hard to quantify. "We have to. We have to get him back."

It would be a long night for both of them.

**********At an apartment...

He stared at her, watching as she stripped off a long velvet glove. She was beautiful, he conceded, and even though he knew she was a man too he knew he wouldn't go to bed with her. She paused, as if reading his mind. "You don't want the full treatment."

"No. No offense."

"None taken," she said, regarding him curiously. "This man, he must be something."

"He is."

"Well then, I will just give you a little. For our great and true love."

She walked up to him, touching his face with her long fingers. Her lips pressed against his, her tongue flickering out. Almost against his will he gathered her to him, sucking on her lips long and hard before he broke the kiss, staring into her dark amused eyes as he struggled to control himself.

"Not bad."

He smiled in spite of himself and then he put his hands on her shoulders, pressing down. She knelt and looked up at him, smiling with triumph. She rubbed his crotch, smiling again as he groaned in pleasure. "Well, you're human after all."

She reached up and unfastened his trousers, pulling down both them and his shorts until they pooled around his ankles. Grinning, she stared at his cock, erect and flat against his stomach. Gripping it in her hand, she looked up at him and smiled. "Hold on. We're going for liftoff." With that, she opened her mouth and took him whole, sucking with all the skill that years of practice could produce.

Chakotay gripped her shoulders, holding himself still as thousands of sparks exploded in his brain. As she worked her magic, he struggled to stay afoot. Before she was done, he would be flat on his back, screaming at the top of his voice. He would scream Tom's name.

**********In orbit around Dorvan V...

They walked to the lift, the Alpha crew moving to quarters to get their gear. Picard was staying on board yet but the others were going to get some down time on the lovely plane below. Deanna Troi smiled at Will Riker as they rode the lift to the transporter room. Their gear was sent on ahead to a small and exclusive resort on the ocean farthest from the great mountains and the great plain surrounding them that was still dangerous Maquis territory. They had a bungalow, a beachfront, and they planned to spend a week there swimming, sunning themselves and having all the sex they couldn't get on board the ship. It was going to be heaven.

Beaming down, they were met by a ground car that would drive them to the resort twenty minutes away. They had avoided the Pueblo Shuttle Port, opting instead for the regional hub near Arapahoe Springs, a medium-sized city noted for its beauty and artist's colony. The drive was pleasant the two of them talking happily and when they arrived the resort staff took them to their bungalow. They entered and once the young man and woman left, they turned to each other and grinned. Deanna turned and walked to an open window, peering outside at the immaculate lawn and the wooden walkway that led to a perfect white sand beach.

It was warm and lovely, early evening, and she turned back to Will, noting his strange silence and even stranger expression. "What is it?"

"You don't know?"

For a moment there was nothing and then it penetrated her preoccupied mind that they weren't alone. Two men stepped from the bathroom, one of them armed with a phaser. That man grinned and they both became chilled as he stepped into the light. "Hello, Will. Remember me?"

Will Riker swallowed and nodded. "Hello, Tom. Long time no see."

Tom nodded. "Yeah. There was that Cardassian prison camp. That and a few other things make reunions hard to come by. But that's all changed now."

"What do you want?"

He grinned again. "Nothing more than I deserve. I want my life back. However, I'll settle for revenge."

With that, he fired. Will convulsed and fell to the floor in a heap. Deanna cried out and knelt down, checking him for injury.

"What did you do?" she cried out.

"Stunned him, the bastard. Now move back or I'll stun you too."

She hesitated and then moved back, standing by the window, her eyes flickering between Will on the floor and Tom. He turned and nodded, another man stepping out, and he knelt beside Will, gathering his wrists for binding.

"Reg! What are you doing!" Deanna cried out, stunned at that actions of someone she considered a friend.

He looked up, anguish warring with determination on his face. "I'm going to help Voyager, Deanna. Don't hate me, please." With that, he finished and rose, stepping back as Riker rolled over onto his back. Tom tapped his comm badge and two men slipped into the room.

"Take him to the house and get him ready for transport. Reg will go with you." He turned and smiled at Troi. "Deanna and I have a few things to settle. Right, Deanna?"

She swallowed and watched as Will was picked up and carried off. Reg followed and the door closed. Tom walked to the table and sat, his phaser in front of him. He turned his hard gaze on her pale face. "Sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

Slowly, reluctantly, she sat down on a chair across from him, this familiar and utterly unknown stranger.

**********Elsewhere...

Tom slept, his head resting on a box as the train made its slow way over the Siskiyou Mountains. Soon they would go down the other side as they made their way toward Yakima. A stop in the Rogue Valley, Medford, Oregon to be precise, would only take a few minutes. He was on his way but he had a very long and dangerous road to go.

In San Francisco, Owen Paris poured over reports, working overtime to make sure that when his son was picked up, they would still retain custody. He had broken his parole and everything was up in the air. It would be difficult to retain Tom unless they did this very carefully.

"He's here, Owen," Miriam said, peering into the den at her husband.

He nodded and rose. "Send him in. Come in too, Miriam."

She nodded and turned, calling to someone. They came in and all three sat down.

"Doctor Richards, my son has run away. The parole is broken. If we can't do something, they'll send him to prison. I believe that he needs help, that he needs to be with us so he can recover."

The doctor nodded.

"Please, help us. When we take him back, we need a statement from you that he's emotionally distraught and needs psychiatric treatment. If we can't prove this, they'll send him to prison and I can't ..." He paused and swallowed hard. "I won't let that happen to him again."

The doctor nodded and looked at them both. "I will do what I can for you and for your son, Admiral. What we need to do is find him soon."

"We're trying," Owen said, rising painfully. "God knows we're trying."

Chakotay stood in the darkness, breathing fresh air into his lungs. It was bracing out and he felt better. Oola had helped him in spite of himself and he felt rather kindly toward the idiosyncratic alien. She was different, like his Tom and she was full of surprises. He sighed and wondered where Tom was.

They had sent for information regarding Tom and Bey, activating agents in the Federation that had never come on line before. He wondered where they were. Were they safe? Did they have food and shelter? Were they being abused? It all crashed in on him and his hardness resolved itself. He would do anything it took to get them back, them and all the others.

Anything at all.

With that thought, he stepped off the curb and headed back toward the Maquis HQ where Nayib labored through the night. Tabor would be there too, he thought and as he walked, he considered all the people that he loved, both there and every place else in the universe.

=0=

Book Eleven: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

The night before...

"That didn't kill you now did it?"

Chakotay sighed and dried his face, tossing his towel into the sink. "No. It was great. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She turned and moved to the bed, removing her full skirts and draping them over a chair next to it. Her ass was perfect, the way she planned it and he watched her as she began to undress for bed. "Sure you won't stay? I love a well-endowed man. Especially after those Federation pencil dicks."

Chakotay snorted and grinned. "You're a piece of work. Maybe if I didn't have it bad for someone else, I'd take you up on it."

"This man, he must be a wonder of the galaxy. Anyone I know?"

"Nope."

She sighed and pouted. "Well, its been an hour."

"It has." Chakotay walked to her, taking her slim waist into his hands. "Thanks." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "I'll let myself out."

"Too bad," she said, watching as he went to the door. He paused and turned, smiling at her. Nodding, he turned and left. She smiled and shook her head. "Did you get that, boys? I gave your leader a damned fine blow job. What about it? You ready for me? Are you man enough for me?" She grinned and walked into the bathroom, running her tub.

Nearby, listening with amusement, two Maquis sighed. "Damn. I wish I were an officer," one of them said, shifting in his seat.

"You and me both," the other replied, punching the rewind button on the recorder. "At least we can listen."

The sounds of lust and groaning filled the small space of the ground car as they waited for the dawn to come.

**********Far away...

She walked out the back door, pausing to look at the sky. It was morning and the day promised heat. Summer in this part of the great plateau leading to the mountains nearby was hot, dry and slow. Chickens walked up, waiting and clucking for their breakfast. She scattered the grain, her ducks and geese walking up, their distinctive honking and quacking a familiar and comforting sound. She walked to the barn, opening the paddock doors. Her horses and sheep walked out, heading for the open gate and the pasturage beyond.

Cows lowed and she smiled, patting their patient sides. Taking a bucket and stool, she sat down and began to milk her cow, the others watching as they waited for her to finish. When she was done, they would all head for the green grass beyond and a lazy day of grazing and lying about, tails whisking flies and colts and calves frisking around them.

Maria patted her cow and moved the bucket, walking to the gate and pulling it open. The cows moved from the big pen and walked past her, the milk cow's bell tingling softly. As they walked she considered her family once more. She was alone but not, the memories of thousands of mornings like this when they were all with her filling her mind. Some place they all were, together or not and soon they would be here with her, she considered. Soon. With a sigh, she turned and walked back to her house to have breakfast. Alone.

**********Nearby...

She sat in her room, sitting on a bed that would be hers for about three more days. They had talked all night, her and the fake Riker. They had come to an understanding. Or, she had come to understand what was at stake. Will Riker would be dead and long gone if she did anything but what she was told for the next few months or so.

Her Riker, her Will would be held in another place, not here but elsewhere. Where that was she would never be told. He would be held by deeply loyal employees of Tom Riker, men like him who harbored grievances against the Federation and Star Fleet and if she didn't do what she was supposed to do, they would kill him without mercy. In her mind it all became clear. There would be no margin for error. There would be no mistakes, no cries for help, no action on her part that signaled that she wasn't completely compliant with his demands. If she failed, she knew Tom would kill Will. She could sense his determination and his resolve.

She was to be herself, the infatuated long-time lover who would smooth any doubts in the minds of observers or friends should Tom's performance show any cracks. They would continue as if nothing had changed and she would have to be convincing. Riker had studied hard. He knew who was on the ship, what they did and what kind of relationship they would have with Will. She provided reams of information about what he didn't know and would continue to do onboard. He was flawless in figure and attitude, in knowledge and in character. She knew he would be diligent in making sure that no one found out that he wasn't who he was supposed to be. She was sure that if she didn't come through, an 'accident' would be easily arranged by him for her.

He told her that he had decided he would use his uniqueness and his fortune and contacts -illicit and otherwise- to help the only people who had taken him in and accepted him, the Maquis. He had done hard time in a prison run by Cardassians and the edge on his personality was there if you looked hard enough.

He told her that he was the same man as Will, with the same dreams, hopes and experiences and to lose his life to Will had been the death of a lot of his spirit, his soul. There was something hard inside him that would be unyielding in pursuit of his goals and if she didn't do her part, make it easier for him to order the death of his doppelganger. She had no hesitation in her mind that he would if needed. None whatsoever.

So here in this paradise surrounded by beauty, she was deeply implicated in a Maquis plot. What it would be she didn't know. She just knew that no matter what happened she would cooperate, if nothing more than by keeping her mouth shut. She would smile at him and be with him and do things with him. She would deflect any stray hesitation on the part of someone else that he wasn't who he said he was. In the end, she hoped, she would save Will's life.

She lay down on the bed, curling up as outside her door she

listened as Tom Riker called Enterprise and established a link to her main computer. For the next three days he would study, read, ask questions, and learn what he needed to step into another man's life. When he was done they would return to Enterprise, he would become the First Officer and they would take their places among the crew.

Will Riker himself would be sedated and secured in a trunk that would be shipped back to Earth on one of Tom's private vessels. When it arrived in San Francisco, it would be taken to one of the most expensive homes in the city, in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods where it would be opened. Will Riker would be removed and placed in a cell with a class ten barrier. He would stay there in luxury while the matter of his life fell into someone else's hands.

If at any time things didn't work out, he would be killed and his body consigned to the basement incinerator after which the mystery of what happened to him would be born. No one involved in the process of holding him would ever betray their loyalty to Tom Riker. They were all graduates of the same camp and they all had the same feelings. They were all in it together come what may.

**********Captain's Cabin, Crazy Horse...

"I don't want to stay, Chakotay."

"It's not negotiable, Tabor."

Chakotay tossed the towel down and turned to his lover, noting the younger man's dark expression of anger. He sighed and stepped closer, resting his hands on Tabor's shoulders. "I have no doubt that we'll pull off this mission. I just want to know that in the event that it fucks up you'll be safe. I want that, Tabor."

"I want to be with you. We're a team, Chakotay. We work best together."

"I know," Chakotay said, kissing Tabor softly. "I want you safe. Besides, Nayib has a heavy load and you've been a godsend to him. I want you here. Bey's gone and I'm going. If something happened to me, I want to know that someone I trust is with him."

Tabor stared at him a long time and then finally nodded. "All right."

Chakotay pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly. "I'll feel better. Nayib has to carry the load, Tabor. You can help him do it. You already do."

Tabor nodded, his head resting on Chakotay's shoulder. Chakotay patted him and then stared into Tabor's still angry eyes. "You're beautiful when you're pissed."

Tabor smiled ruefully. "It's easy to do with you."

"Nubby is easier on the ego, I know," Chakotay said chuckling.

"He's a good man. I don't know how it is that someone didn't land him years ago."

"Well, the Maquis and the fucking war probably had something to do with it. Nayib always had a boy friend. He was unconscious that way. It was the same as breathing. I will say that I've never heard him talk of someone with the same degree of reverence that he speaks of you."

"He told me he'd do me if it weren't for you."

Chakotay smiled and finished buttoning his shirt. He tucked it in and turned to Tabor. "If something happens to me, Nayib will be there to take care of you."

"I don't need anyone taking care of me," Tabor said, suddenly defensive.

"I know that," Chakotay proffered. "You Bajorans, you're tough and hard-nosed. But you *still* need someone. I would hate to sit in a prison and think that you were alone."

"You won't end up in prison."

"No, probably."

"You won't," Tabor replied, his voice strained. "They won't catch you. They can't. They aren't smart enough or tough enough."

Chakotay stared at him and touched Tabor's face gently. "Don't worry about me. No surrender, remember?" He stroked Tabor's cheek with his thumb. "They won't catch us. We're invisible, remember?"

"Yeah, no surrender," Tabor whispered, slipping into Chakotay's arms.

They stood together a long time, swaying gently in the quiet room before turning and going together to the planet below to see Nayib about the upcoming mission to Khitomer.

**********In a train yard in Medford, Oregon ...

He hopped off the freight car and looked around, the dimness of the dawn and shadows of the cars concealing him. He had ridden the train to Southern Oregon, first stop on a trip heading east. There were cars everywhere and he considered where they were going.

The sky brightened slowly overhead as he slunk among the cars, looking at the destination tags on the metal doors. When he found one headed for Denver, he moved to the door and began to work the code. It slipped open and he clambered in, moving to sit between paletted boxes. His stomach growled and his head hurt. He had aches and pains and he was worried. However, he had no other choice and he settled in as best he could. As the door closed, the darkness came and Tom Paris closed his eyes against the pitch blackness that swallowed him. It would be a long and very scary ride to the mile high city.

Nearby, the yard foreman walked along, checking the seals on the cars. As he reached the one in which Tom Paris hid, he frowned. It had been opened. He put down his scanner and punched in the code. As he did, Tom felt panic rising in him. Slowly, the door slid open and Tom sat as still as he could. A man's face appeared in the too bright light of the door and then he climbed up the metal stairs, stepping inside the car. Tom sat as a statue, not even daring to breathe as the man slowly moved along the row of boxes in front of him.

**********Three days later...

She walked beside him as they stepped down from the transporter pad. Together they walked to the lift and entered, the door closing behind them. He turned and smiled at her, noting her pale face. "Lift, deck three."

It began to move and Tom stepped forward, lifting her chin with his hand. "You better cheer up. If you don't pull off your end of this deal, lover boy pays for it."

She swallowed and nodded, making effort to project her normal vitality. The lift stopped and he moved to step off. She stood still as he walked past, waiting to go on to her deck. He turned and caught her arm, pulling her off. Turning, he walked to his cabin, her arm in his hand.

Nodding and smiling at crew, he worked out mentally who each was. His recall was flawless as usual, his naturally high abilities honed by life with the Cardassians. Pausing to punch the codes in his door, he nudged her inside and stepped in himself. The door closed and she turned, staring at him with concern. "Why am I here?"

"You aren't playing your part. I want to make it very clear, Deanna. If you don't hold up your end of the deal, Will dies."

"I know that."

"Then *show* it." He stared at her with frustration. "I'm not kidding here. Will took my life and I got screwed. I spent a lot of time in a Cardassian prison camp and alot of things got straight in my mind. My goals and my loyaltieswhat's important to me is very clear. Will Riker is a dead man if you don't cooperate. And consider this ... if you *told* them I wasn't Will, there's no way to prove that I'm not. No way in hell."

She stared at him, defeat filling every corner of her brain and then she sighed, nodding her defeat. "Please, whatever you want I'll do. Just don't hurt him."

Tom relaxed, noting her capitulation. "All right. Just remember, I'm not joking around. I mean what I say."

She nodded. "Can I go?"

"Sure. Be here for dinner at 1700. We must keep the charade up."

She nodded and turned, reaching the door.

"Deanna."

She turned and looked at him.

"There are twenty-seven people on this ship with telepathic abilities. If for some reason they read what's happening, Riker is *dead*. Do you understand my meaning?"

She nodded and swallowed hard. "Loud and clear." With that, she turned and walked silently out of the room.

=0=

Book Eleven: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

It was cold and the morning light was low when they finished breakfast. Tuvok sat quietly, staring out the window, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his family. The mission was on and they had a last meal together until they returned, the Federation President and his party in their brigs. Chakotay rose and dumped his dishes, turning and staring at the quiet group with him. Nayib was there as was Tabor and Tuvok. B'Elanna and Harry, Seven and Kira Nerys, they sat together. Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir and the Holodoc all sat waiting, their eyes flickering between themselves and Chakotay.

"We have to go. We have a lot at stake. Our people are waiting for us to set them free. I'm not just talking about the Voyager crew and Tom. I'm talking about Bey and my father, about all the people who have been sitting in cells for years and years while their families mourned them for dead. I'm talking about people of conscience, like Sek of Vulcan. I think it's time to make the Federation rethink their program. It's time to either escalate or end this war. It's in our hands."

Nayib nodded and rose, staring at the people around him. "My brother and father need us. My mother needs to see them. Our people, all the people out here, they need relief. We are the only ones standing between them and the vengeance of the Federation. The hard-liners, they want to make us pay. We can't fail. But I want you to know, Chakotay, if you can't take them, you have the Council's permission to blow them to hell. One way or the other, the Federation President is ours."

Chakotay nodded.

"For those of you late to the dance, I want you to know that it's an act of faith to include you. Some of you come from worlds that felt the iron fist of Federation indifference and politicking. Bajor and all the rest, they were left to fend for themselves. Now's our time; our hour. Now is the time to step up to the plate and do for all our people, the living and the dead, what our Federation should have done for us. It's in our hands now. I trust that you made your peace with your decision to be with us."

Julian sighed deeply and nodded. "I have. I ... I want this over too. If this does it, then I'm in."

Nayib nodded and looked at Chakotay. "Take care."

Chakotay nodded and stepped to his brother, hugging him tightly. He turned and hugged Tabor, kissing him and hugging him again.

"We'll be here when you get back."

"We'll be back," Chakotay said, nodding to Tuvok.

They all rose and stood in a group, comming the ships they would fly with for transport. When they were all gone, Tabor turned and looked at Nayib, the older man pale and solemn. "Come on, Nayib. I could use a walk by the river."

Nayib looked at him and reached out, pulling Tabor into his arms. He held him for a long time and then smiled, nodding to the younger man. "I think I could too."

With that, they turned and walked out the door to the corridor beyond, and then to the street below. Above them, moving with skill and precision, two great white ships stood out to begin a mission of rescue with a twist. They would take someone else's people to rescue their own and maybe in the doing, force a peace that had eluded both sides for more than a decade.

**********Medford, Oregon...

He saw the man crouching down and before he could move, the figure sprang at him. They fell back, hitting the wall and the inspector saw stars. The figure darted past and jumped out, landing awkwardly on the ground. The inspector straightened, pressing his comm badge.

"Security! I've been attacked! There's a man running loose down at track five!"

Tom rose from the ground, his ankle shooting pains up his leg. Grimacing with agony, he began to limp away, moving as fast as his ankle would allow. Behind him he could hear shouting and people running. Desperately, he moved between cars and headed over the tracks toward a big empty field surrounded by houses. Before he could clear the barbed wire fence that separated the tracks from the field, rough hands grabbed him and pulled him back.

He landed on his back and struck out blindly until an agonizing pain rendered him unconscious. Two men stepped back, rubbing their faces where Tom's hands had struck them. One of them but the stunning device back in his belt and tapped his comm badge.

"Lucy, we have him. You better call the Sheriff. We'll need a transport to Rogue Valley Memorial."

"Affirmative."

They stood over him for three minutes before the Sheriff's deputy and the ambulance arrived. Soon the lanky stranger would be someone else's problem and they could go about their business again.

**********Enterprise...

He stepped out, walking along the corridor. It was the beginning of the first day of his impersonation and he looked forward to being back in old, familiar haunts among people he hadn't seen in years. He entered the lift and rode to the Bridge, stepping off and pausing. Everything looked so right, so now that he had a moment of deja vu, something of the longing that had been a part of him for so long that he had become unaware of its existence. Moving to his chair, he sat and smiled at Picard.

"Morning, Captain."

"Morning, Will. Nice break?"

"The best," he answered, a fat grin on his face evidence of his pleasure and enjoyment.

"Good," Picard replied, smiling. "We'll be standing out soon enough. Take over the conn will you?"

"Certainly," Tom said, leaning back with ease.

Picard walked to his Ready Room and soon was out of sight. Tom looked around and chuckled softly. It was all too easy, he thought. Way too damned easy for words.

**********On a planet far away...

Wesley Crusher stood by the fence, noting that the security here was as high as any place he had seen. Most Federation prisoners were transported to camps off the main route. They worked in mines or sat in camps waiting for the armistice that never seemed to come. He was another class of prisoner. He had a value and therefore was kept here along with others like Kathryn Janeway and Geordi LeForge. He hadn't seen her but he had heard she was here. Most of the loyalists of the Sorrel Bay were gone but she was here in solitary confinement.

Word had it she was eaten with remorse over everything. He didn't know. He hadn't seen her and the camp scuttlebutt wasn't always reliable. He figured she was. Two ships and crews were lost on her watch. That had to eat at you eventually.

"Wes!"

He turned and noted Geordi signaling him. Breakfast, he thought, turning and walking to join his XO. Just in time, he thought, sighing with boredom. Something to break the day.

***********Nearby...

She finished her meal and then began the callisthentics that broke her day into pieces. The monotony of it all left her too much time to consider her situation and after spending days exhausting the possibilities for making a break for it -they consisted of zero to none- she made her own amusements.

Guards seldom came but for meals or to take her to her exercise hour in the yard. She was constantly alone and all she could do was compose verse, pace endlessly and exercise. All-in-all, it was a terrible, terrible endless and monotonous life.

**********Nearby...

Nayib looked up with a smile, noting that Tabor had lunch on a tray for two. He tossed his stylus and moved to sit on the couch.

"You're as bad as your brother."

"No one is as bad as Chakotay. However, if you want to have him come running either bring him his lunch naked or have fresh baked bread and homemade butter available."

"So that's the trick."

"It is."

Tabor set their food out and leaned back, a sandwich in his hands. He took a big bite of the thick and fulsome delight and began to chew. "It always amazes me to see human food in alien hands."

"We invented the sandwich, Nayib. Get used to it."

Nayib chuckled and shook his head. "You remind me of Maris. He said that the Klingons invented everything first. I asked him if they invented butt fucking and he looked at me all indignantly. He said, 'Klingons don't butt fuck.' I asked him, what the hell kind of lie was that? He was *the biggest* bottom in the universe."

"What did he say?"

Nayib grinned and sighed, shaking his head. "He said that Klingons screwed, they didn't butt fuck."

"Semantics," Tabor said, laughing loudly.

"I told him that and he told me not to bring religion into the conversation."

"He sounds like a nut."

"He was. I loved him like a fool. He broke my heart. You know, baby, my heart still hurts." Nayib took Tabor's hand and slid it into his shirt. "Feel it? That's heartache."

"Ah, that's so sad. What can I do to help make it all better?" Tabor asked, blinking his eyes innocently.

"Well, you could sit on my face for a while. I think that might help me over the hump."

Tabor laughed and looked at Nayib with affection. "You're a dog."

"I am. I have to admit it. However, my heart *is* broken and I haven't had the requisite number of sexual interludes in which to come to terms with my loss and such. If you were truly a man of mercy, a man of peace and joy, you'd let me jump you without delay."

"All right."

Nayib paused, looking at Tabor over the top of his own sandwich.

"Are you joking?"

"Nope."

"My brother would kill me."

"Probably."

Nayib grinned and sighed, shaking his head in amusement. "You're worse than Maris for breaking my balls."

"I know," Tabor said, smiling sweetly. "I love to watch you squirm."

"I squirm better naked."

Tabor grinned and leaned forward, his lips this close to Nayib's. "I bet you do. I squirm pretty good myself."

Nayib put his sandwich down and smiled. "You're a tease. I like that in a man."

Tabor smiled. "Eat you sandwich. You never know when you'll need your strength."

"Shit," Nayib sighed, laughing. "You're a ball buster. Just like Maris."

"Maybe," Tabor said, gazing at Nayib with fondness. "But I do know that if you were ever mine, I would never leave you."

Nayib smiled and nodded. "Fair enough," he said, picking up his sandwich and taking a big bite.

They continued their meal and when they were done, re-entered the war once more.

**********Rogue Valley Memorial Hospital...

He awoke in a room, restraints on his arms and legs. The door was security strength and through the window he could see men in uniforms. Tom lay his head back, tears brimming in his eyes. He had failed. He was recaptured. He was heading for prison. He lay quietly, ignoring that the door opened. A hand hesitantly came to rest on his shoulder and he turned his head, slowly opening his eyes. He stared at the figure and the one behind him. It was his parents.

"It's all right, Tom," his father said, tears on the edge of his voice. "It's going to be all right."

"It will, Tommy," his mother said, moving closer and touching his hand with her own. "We're going to take you back home."

"No," Tom said, jerking his restraints. "No!"

Owen and Miriam stepped back and a third figure stepped forward. He pressed a hypo against Tom's neck and he fell into a light sleep.

"That should make it easier to transport him back to San Francisco," Doctor Frazier said, nodding to an orderly. "When we get to the clinic, we'll work out what we will do to get him stabilized enough for the hearing with the parole board."

Owen nodded, his wife's hand held firmly in his. He watched as orderlies transferred Tom's still form to a gurney for the short trip to the Medford International Airport. In a few minutes aboard his private shuttle, Tom would be taken from San Francisco Interplanetary Shuttle Port to the exclusive and private clinic of the Briars near the bay. When he was there, they would evaluate him and prepare him to meet the parole board that would decide his fate for the next few months or the rest of his life.

If Owen Paris had his way, they would keep custody of their son come hell or high water. He was prepared to play as dirty as possible to make sure that Tom didn't disappear into the Federation Prison System once more.

**********Shortly thereafter ...

The shuttle arrived, following a Star Fleet Admiral's barge to the VIP terminals. It parked alongside the admiral's shuttle, its beautiful lines and markings announcing it to be a prototype of Alaksa Corp, Tom Riker's conglomerate. This ship was one that they were developing for the military and it had transported its creator to Dorvan V and its cargo back in record time. As the doors opened and a big trunk was unloaded, the Admiral's barge unloaded cargo of its own. A gurney was wheeled down the cargo ramp and over to an ambulance that would take the victim on board to seclusion in a rest facility.

The trunk was wheeled to a Alaksa Corp truck which would take it to a beautiful house where it would be off loaded and its contents taken good care of pending further notice. It would be ironic that both cargos arrived at the same time on the same day. It would be further ironic that Tom Riker's mansion was only half a mile away from the Paris family home.

**********Far away...

They flew together, moving through space unseen and undetected. Tuvok sat in his command chair, his calm facade a thin layer over his seething heart. He practiced his meditations, working magic over his turmoil. The turmoil itself was a mixed blessing. He never felt before such a sensation of awareness and observation. Even though it was hard to contain, he channeled it into his senses and his reasoning, making it work for him rather than against him.

This would be the first step in getting his son out of prison and returning to his beloved wife. He would do whatever it took to succeed. Failure was too painful and too permanent to contemplate.

**********Nearby...

Chakotay sat in his chair, listening to the encoded traffic between Enterprise and the Federation President's barge. The great cruiser would escort the President's barge for a part of the distance, leaving it to travel alone and incognito for the greatest distance to Khitomer. The trip and the space they were traveling through was considered to be safe and therefore it was felt that going low key would keep from attracting unwanted attention. Besides, the barge was well armed and the crew veteran.

Chakotay smiled at the thought, the intelligence they received comforting. It meant that Tom Riker was now the First Officer of Enterprise. He was sending the messages, piggybacked to others, using the Maquis technology developed to communicate with deep plant spies. They knew when Enterprise left that they would be able to form up on the barge, one on each side and capture it without a shot being fired. When they did, when the shuttle was safely inside Crazy Horse, then they would disappear off the face of the galaxy.

It amused him deeply to contemplate it and he sat, his fingers steepled in front of him as his crew flew them to within visual sighting of Enterprise and the small barge that was carrying the Federation President and his party.

**********At the Briars...

He awoke and stretched, unaware for a moment that he was in a bed in an unfamiliar place. He took a deep breath and sat up slowly, a hand resting on his shoulder as he did. He blinked and stared at the arm, following it to a shoulder and then to a pale face. "Lie back down. You're going to be okay."

Tom looked at the figure and blinked again. "Dad?" he asked, confused.

=0=


	12. Chapter 12

=0=

Book Twelve: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Enterprise...

They flew with the smaller ship, picking it up as it came up on the frontier. They would follow it along the more disputed parts of its journey and then they would peel off,secure that the heavily armed ship would be fast enough and strong enough to meet any challenge to its sovereignty no matter how remote that might be. No Maquis could come into their space this far without being detected. Even so, Jean-Luc Picard worried about the ship flying alone, hoping not to draw attention to itself in this manner.

"They won't draw attention to themselves. Can you imagine what the Maquis would do to grab the Federation President, the Counselor Secretary of State and the Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire?"

He had stared at Will and sighed, the younger man grinning at his concern with amusement. "You came back in a good humor," Picard said, settling back into his chair.

Tom grinned and nodded. "I did indeed, right Deanna?" He had turned and looked at her and she glanced at him, nodding.

"Right."

Picard had only smiled and let it drop but the shift had been tense for Troi as she sat beside Tom Riker. He had made her have dinner with him, the three hours she spent in his cabin going over information about crew and recent events to clarify Riker's responses. She had escaped with pleasure, hurrying to her own cabin where she paced until the lateness of the hour forced her to bathe and go to bed. There was no way out. She had decided it earlier but now, here on this ship, it merely reinforced what she already knew. She was trapped and there was no way out. After shift she walked with him, feeling his hand touching her back, drifting down to her ass and she tensed, noting out of the corner of her eye a grin spreading on her face. They entered the lift alone and she turned, standing before the door. He was behind her and he reached over, resting his hand on her ass.

She turned, filled with fury. "Lift halt!"

They stood facing each other, her filled with fury and him filled with intense amusement.

"Poor Deanna. So many feelings and no outlet. You should work them through, find a way to vent."

"You are never to touch me. Ever."

He grinned at her, a hard and cold grin. "You never usedto say that. You practically begged me to take you back after Worf."

"I would never be with you." She stared at him with implacable rage.

"You will be with me, for me or by me if I say so. If you don't, if you don't allow a certain amount of familiarity, then people will guess something's wrong and then where will your *precious* Will be?"

She swallowed hard and looked at the floor. "I hate you."

"Good." He reached out and raised her chin, grinning broadly. "You can hate me. You just must never disobey me."

She stared at him for a long time and then nodded.

"Lift, continue," he said, leaning back against the wall, his eyes regarding her with amusement. They continued on and she fled to her deck, hurrying along to her cabin. He watched her go and sighed, feeling his old regard for her rising. They were twins, Will and himself, even more than twins and all of Will's feelings and desires were mirrored in him. Even the ones he had for her. With a sigh, he called his deck and continued on.

**********Crazy Horse...

They picked up Enterprise on long range scanners and shifted to stealth mode immediately. This modification of their warp signature would allow them to move freely while cloaked without leaving a detectable trail. Any noise they might make would be negligible. In all, it was a combination of technology that would allow them to swim through space like sharks, picking off unsuspecting ships like so many fish.

Chakotay stepped down from Tactical fully pleased with their transformation. He walked to his chair and sat, noting that the power cells that filled their hangar decks and holds were not only functioning perfectly but recycling to supply a continuous supply of energy. "How far away is Enterprise and the barge, Harry?"

"Forty thousand kilometers."

"Slow and follow. Liberty?"

"They're slowing, Captain," Harry said, glancing up.

"Everything is five by five."

"Wonderful," Chakotay agreed, noting that they were now following the two ships undetected. In an hour and a half, Enterprise would peel off and they would be alone with the fleet little barge that was slicing through the darkness so sleekly. When Enterprise was far enough away, they would assume positions alongside and begin jamming her signals. That would be the time they would make their demands and if the little ship didn't capitulate, they would fire on her engines, disable her and then take her deck by deck. No problem, that, Chakotay thought. They'd done it before on bigger ships. An image of Janeway crossed his mind and he mused on it for a moment. Then he pushed it away, the coldness in him forbidding any weakness or sentiment. There would be time for that later, after the war, after Tom was back, after his mother saw his father. Right now it was a liability. He settled back for the next hour and a half, waiting for Jean-Luc Picard to leave the dance.

**********Earth, at the Briars...

Tom stared at the ceiling, the restraints that he had awakened to still in place. He was feeling sick, his stomach twisting in knots as he considered his own failure. The dull ache in his ankle signaled to him the fracture he had incurred jumping from the train. There would have been no way to get away had he wanted to. They had brought him here, his father talking to him when he had awakened from his sedative. They were trying to keep him out of prison. He had broken his parole and put his parents in a hard place.

Nothing unusual there.

What was bad now was that he was headed to prison if he didn't cooperate. What would he cooperate about? His own incipient insanity he guessed. They felt he was emotionally distraught. He was, he supposed. He wasn't with his friends, his ship, the one person he loved, too late he might add.

Too late. The story of his life.

The door opened and Moira stepped in, a smile on her pale face. She stepped up to him, resting her small hands on his arm. "How do you feel, Sport?"

"Chained. Sedated. Confined."

She nodded, sighing. "You ran away, Tom. You ... I wish you hadn't done that. They're ready to put you back in prison."

"I've already been there. The Delta took seven years. Isn't that enough for them?"

"You were with the Maquis. You were flying Nayib of all people to a Maquis council meeting."

"If it had been someone else, would it have mattered to them?"

She sighed and sat on the bed next to him. "Dad tells me that you and that man have a relationship."

"That man is my friend, Mima," Tom said, his voice low and even.

"Dad says that you're lovers."

Tom looked away. "Well, what can I say?"

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way. It's been a long time since we had peace."

"And the rim? What about them? They were in the war before we were and now they're being attacked after the war is over. What about them?"

She regarded him and sighed. "I can't worry about that. I worry about you. I don't want you in prison."

"You can't stop them. They want what they want, Mima, and no one can stop them."

"We can."

He looked at her, regarding her warily.

She noted that and patted him. "We know you're exhausted and we know that your loyalty is with the other side. We know that you've suffered and you're not yourself. Given time, we know you'll find your way again, Tom. But until then, we have to take the steps necessary to make sure you don't end up in a prison."

"And what might those be?" he asked, quelling the rising uneasy in his chest.

"I'm going to tell you what you have to tell the Probationary Hearing Board that's meeting in a few days to go over the revocation of your parole into Dad's custody."

"Tell them?"

"Yes," she said, her face solemn. "If you present the right facade to them, coupled with the observations of the doctors here, you won't go to prison."

"Where *will* I go?"

"You'll stay here," she said, taking his hand into hers. The skin was cold to her touch and she began to rub it, to return the circulation.

He stared at her for a long time and then he looked away. "So, I fool them and end up here, locked up in a loony bin or I don't fool them and end up in prison. Nice choices, Moira."

"Tom, this place is a hospital. You'll get treatment here. You'll be allowed to have access to the grounds, to the gym. We'll be here, right here, helping you. Please, for Mom's sake. Please help us help you for Mama's sake."

He closed his eyes, weariness filling him as he considered her blackmail. His mother, his Achilles heel, she played her trump card. "I'm tired, Mima."

"I know, Tommy," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "You rest and I'll talk to Daddy. Tomorrow, we'll talk. Tomorrow, I'll help you. Okay?"

He didn't look at her but he nodded slightly. For a little while she stayed and then she rose and left, the room becoming still once more. He turned his head, looking at the ceiling once more. He tugged at his hands, the restraints mocking him and then he closed his eyes.

"Where are you, Chakotay? Are you still alive?" he whispered, sighing deeply. "Please, still be alive."

**********Crazy Horse...

He watched Enterprise peel off with satisfaction. In about thirty minutes she would be out of range to help the barge, given that it would take about three minutes to disable her enough to begin boarding. He turned to Harry.

"How's Liberty?"

"She's moving toward her side."

"Good. Take us in, helm. Hold a steady course just outside of the barge's wake," Chakotay said.

Rick Batehart nodded and eased her alongside of the barge. Liberty moved in a parallel line and in seconds the ship was bracketed by two large and infinitely powerful battle cruisers. Chakotay checked the chronometer. Twenty-eight more minutes and they would begin their assault. Twenty-eight minutes and they would throw down the gauntlet to the Federation.

**********On the Barge...

She sat at the window, writing a letter to her boy friend. An aide to the Secretary of State, she was on her first deep space mission. She looked forward to going to the historic facility on Khitomer, to seeing the Klingons and to getting in some sightseeing. Dinner would be had in a moment and they would have another high spirited conversation about life and work and men and women. The Federation President was good company. She looked forward to her evening and the trip ahead. Enterprise leaving them had been disconcerting but the President seemed to be nonchalant about it. After all, he said, what could possibly go wrong out here?

=0=

Book Twelve: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

Enterprise...

They sat on the Bridge when Data turned, looking at Picard quizzically. "Captain, I no longer have the President's barge on my scanners."

For a moment they just sat, the impact of what Data said not registering and then Picard stood up, moving toward Data's station. He peered at his screen and then turned, looking at Worf. "What do you read?"

Worf checked his monitors and then looked up. "Nothing. It was there and now it's not."

"Turn us around. Red alert. Shields up." He turned and walked back, sitting down again. Riker looked at him, noting his tension. A part of him wanted to help Picard, that side of him that was still part of what he could have been but the new part, the part overlain with pain and suffering had no problem watching Picard sweat. "What do you suppose happened?" he asked, faux concern in his voice.

"I have no idea, Number One, but I intend to find out."

Riker nodded, containing his amusement. He knew that they had taken the barge cloaked and were on their way to their home base. Enterprise would find nothing, nothing at all.

The lift door opened and Deanna Troi stepped in, looking at the screen and noting the blinking red lights. She moved forward, stopping just short of her chair. Riker looked up at her, noting her pale face. He reached out and patted her chair, watching with satisfaction as she complied. "Just the person we need," he said, glancing at Picard.

"Keep yourself open, Deanna. The President's barge has gone off the scope."

She took a jagged breath, shock suffusing her and she looked at Riker. His face became stern and his eyes cold. She looked away, focusing on the screen. "Aye, sir," she said, gathering her composure for the ordeal ahead.

**********A few minutes before...

They had fallen into the safety zone, the Enterprise too far away to help the barge. Chakotay rose from his seat and walked to the helm, turning and signaling to Harry. He opened a heavily encrypted line, a line that was dampened to avoid a leaching of the signal into space beyond a kilometer of the ship's wake. "President's barge, this is Chakotay of the Maquis battle\ cruiser, Crazy Horse. I am notifying you that you are now our prisoners and you are to stand down. You have exactly one minute before we open fire."

For a moment it was silent and then a voice came over the line. "This is the private shuttle Carmine Three. We are on a private vacation to Khitomer. Explain your actions."

"You have forty-five seconds to stand down and prepare to be boarded."

It was silent for a moment and then the barge began to fire up their weapons systems. Tuvok watched them and turned to his tactical officer. Kira Nerys looked at him and waited his signal. He nodded and her hands flew. Jets of energy materialized out of nowhere and beat a stacatto along the gleaming hull of the smaller ship. Fires burst as they did and flared out as they began to disable the ship's ability to fight and to fly. On the other side, appearing out of nowhere, more fire appeared and the two beams began to stitch a pattern of destruction along both sides of the barge.

The Federation President stood on the Bridge, the ship's deck rising and falling with each hit. "Our weapons systems are out!" a crewman called as ozone filled the air. "Our shields are down to forty-five per cent!"

The captain arose and turned to the President. He staggered as the ship shuddered. "I can't protect you. We can't run. They've targeted what they need to make us helpless."

"Who are they?" the President demanded, hanging onto the side of the doorway in which he stood.

"We don't know. They're cloaked."

Just then a hit on the bow burst the viewing screen and they all were knocked off their feet by the blast. Rising slowly, the Captain pressed a button.

"All hands stand down. Prepare to surrender the ship. Repeat, prepare to surrender the ship."

Behind both of them, standing braced against a bulkhead, the Secretary of State's aide stood, pale and terrified. Behind even her, she could hear the whir of transporters and she turned, taking a phaser blast. As she fell, she heard others and one by one, the crew and passengers of the barge were taken prisoner.

**********Enterprise...

They arrived at the scene, bits and pieces of the barge floating here and there. There was traces of weapons fire, Federation weapons, and not much else to show that anything had been there. It was dissipating fast and they hastened themselves to gather information. Scans far and wide found nothing, not even a warp signature to follow and they began moving in a wide circle around the rapidly disappearing debris trying to find a hint of which direction to go.

Riker watched the screen, noting how neatly Chakotay and Tuvok had taken the barge. She was gone for about twenty-five minutes before they arrived and it wouldn't take long for them to cross the DMZ and be in their safe zone. He was glad.

"Do you detect anything, Counselor?"

Picard watched Troi as she sat stilled, her pale face giving nothing away. She sighed and turned to them both. "Nothing, Captain. It's like no one was ever here."

Riker nodded. "Orders, Captain?"

"Keep searching, Number One. I have to notify Star Fleet Command."

With that, he rose and walked away. Riker glanced at Troi, her face pale. She started to rise and he stopped her. "Sit a while. Enjoy the show. I like you here beside me. It ... comforts me, Deanna, to have you here in this moment of deep emotional turmoil."

She sat back, her eyes focused on the screen and considered the magnitude of what happened. The Federation President and his party were now the prisoners of the Maquis. The gauntlet was cast down and now it would be the Federation's turn to decide what to do. She hoped in her heart it wouldn't be war. With a sigh she settled in to wait.

**********Twenty minutes before...

They had stitched the ship, downing her engines, shields and defense capabilities. Chakotay had demanded surrender and they had finally capitulated. Tuvok, in charge of boarding the ship and taking everyone prisoner, had opted for stunning everyone they encountered, so pressed for time where they. Deck by deck, room by room, they mopped up the ship.

Reaching the Bridge, Tuvok shut down systems and instituted fire control. Touching his comm badge, he contacted Chakotay. "We're good to go."

"Affirmative. First One out."

Chakotay turned and nodded to Harry. The younger man nodded back and transacted a tractor beam on the stern of the damaged vessel. Crazy Horse slowly moved back and Liberty slowly moved forward, capturing the bow of the barge in their own tractor beam.

"Beams online, Captain," Harry said.

"Good. Now cloak the ship."

With a flicker of his fingers, the cloaking field traveled up the transporter beam, enveloping the barge as it did. Liberty did same and soon the damaged ship winked out of sight. As soon as they were secured, Chakotay ordered them to move out. The operation took less than ten minutes and when they left, the small amount of debris floating behind would be of no use to the Enterprise once she arrived.

**********Captain's Ready Room, Enterprise...

The look of shock on the face of the Admiral at Star Fleet had been stunning. This woman never displayed emotion. She had nodded and took his information. "Very well, Captain Picard. I will forward this to the highest channels. Keep searching. I expect that Star Fleet will be put on red alert all along the DMZ."

Picard nodded. "Very well, Admiral."

The screen winked out and he sat a moment considering the potential for full out war. Rising wearily, he turned and walked back to the Bridge, assuming his seat once more. "Any luck?"

"None," Riker replied, noting Picard's tension. "Bad news?"

Picard grinned slightly. "As if this isn't enough?"

Riker grinned. "You have a point."

"We're going on red alert all along the frontier. What comes next is anyone's guess. I just hope it isn't all out war."

"You and me both," Riker replied.

Deanna didn't say a word.

**********The Brig, Liberty...

The cells were full and the Federation President stood at the barrier, checking his party and the barge's crew as they were brought in half conscious. He watched the Maquis working around him with dread. He knew a damned lot of things. He expected that they would dredge it out of him. His papers were confiscated and he knew that the others would be fair game for these barbarians.

"I want to speak to your Captain."

The big Maquis guard turned to the President, looking at him with a bland expression.

"I *demand* to speak to your Captain! Don't you know who I am and what I represent?"

The Maquis considered his words and shrugged. "You're the bastard in the cell and as for what you represent, we all know. You're the bastards that left us alone to the Cardassians. If I were you, I wouldn't let anyone know just exactly who or what you're supposed to be. There's a lot of people here with real and justifiable grievances with you and they just might rip your face off."

The President blinked and stood silently, watching as the big Maquis moved to the Brig console. Behind him, trembling with fright and the after effects of being phaser stunned, the Secretary of State's aide stood hugging her sides. What happens now, she thought? What would happen to them now?

**********Crazy Horse Bridge...

Chakotay sat at his seat, just signed off from talking to Tuvok. Enterprise was coming, she was just on the edge of their sensors but they would be nearly forty-five minutes ahead of them with only three hours before crossing the DMZ and entering their own space again.

The mission had gone off without a hitch, the benefits of good planning never to be underestimated. They had their quarry and they knew that the Federation would heighten security along the DMZ. Now they would begin a new phase of their battle. The negotiation phase.

Hopefully.

The Federation would rather bite off their own dick than sit down and talk to the Maquis, this Chakotay knew, but they had to. They would make a video of the President and his party, piggybacking it out on Federation cables, and soon it would be delivered to news outlets all over the Federation. Soon everyone would know.

After that, they would feel their way along. If they had to make other strikes, if they had to take their technologically enhanced ships into Federation territory and do more mayhem, he would do it. They were on the edge of something here. They were on the edge of ending this conflict to terms that both sides could live with.

If the President's party wasn't enough, they would go out and find other people. They would hunt down and destroy Enterprise. He considered that, the flagship of the fleet falling to their stealth, and sighed. Whatever it took, he thought, whatever it took.

**********Dorvan V...

He crept to the door, two men with him, pausing to listen. Knocking softly, he waited as the sounds of someone coming to the door met his ears. A light came on inside and the door opened. "What do you want?" the small woman asked.

"Chakotay and Nayib asked us to come here, ma'am and take you to safety."

She stared at them with suspicion. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because, ma'am, they sent me. They told me to tell you that the girls are on Qos'nos, Kolopak is in prison on Earth and that they have just taken the President's barge. The Federation might decide to move you to a secured place and they want you out."

"What about my animals? My garden?"

"We've arranged for someone to take care of that, ma'am."

"I'm bringing my dogs."

"Very well. We have to hurry."

Maria nodded and turned, picking up her small Scotty and taking her sheep dog by the collar. Stepping out, they closed the door and crept out to the trees that stood in a grove near the sheep pasture. Entering a ground car they turned out and drove along, the nervous man sitting next to her, her Scotty sitting on his lap. "Who are you, young man?"

"I'm Barclay, ma'am. Reg Barclay."

She nodded. "You brought my son home. You found them in the Delta."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, patting the little dog as he sat licking Reg's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Barclay. I owe you one," Maria said, sighing softly as they disappeared into the night.

=0=

Book Twelve: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

Enterprise...

Will Riker stood at the helm, watching as the ship moved through space following a very minute particle trail that might have been put down by a warp engine. Or not. He was acutely aware of the technology that Chakotay was using. He, himself, had financed much of it, funneling it to them in pieces where it was reassembled by Maquis engineers who were interested in running undetected.

They had taken hours to find this faint residue and it was fading as they flew. That it led to the DMZ was not a surprise. What it was from and what they did to make it so insignificant was. "The Maquis have made some improvements," Picard had said, sitting behind his desk in his Ready Room.

Riker had sipped his coffee, nodding noncommittally. "You would have to think so. They have alliances and such among many diverse people."

Picard nodded. "This means that they can come across the line either undetected or unseen. They can strike anywhere and we can't find them. They could strike at us and we wouldn't know it until we picked ourselves up off the deck."

Riker nodded. "Perplexing to say the least."

"You have a talent for understatement, Number One," Picard had said, smiling. That he did, he thought, turning and walking back to the command chairs. He sat and considered his mandate. "Find a way to detect them. Find a way to track them. We have to be ready for what comes. If they can cloak or run in a stealth mode that we can't detect, we're sitting ducks."

Riker had nodded, a concerned expression on his face. He had left and gone to work, going through the motions, redirecting when he could and as he sat in his chair, he knew they were no closer than ever before. He glanced beside him, at the ice queen that filled the next chair.

Deanna hadn't spoken a word, merely shaking her head when someone asked her if she 'felt' anything.

/... Keep it up, baby. This is the way to go .../

He rose and walked to the conn, peering over Data's shoulder. Data looked up quizzically. "Too bad Geordi isn't here," Riker said, smiling slightly at the android, an innate fondness for Data filling his mind.

Data nodded. "It would make this all a lot easier having his expertise."

"True," Riker said, staring at the empty star field ahead of them. "Truer words were never spoken."

**********Entering the DMZ...

They crossed the demarcated line, flying into their own territory, the ship suspended between them, hidden from view. In the Brig of both ships, crew and civilians alike from the barge sat wondering among themselves what would come next. On the Bridge of the Liberty, Tuvok sat as well, working through the plan that they had just sprung. It had worked enormously well. They had executed it in under ten minutes to complete perfection. Chakotay had given him the task of setting up the patterns of fire, boarding and taking the crew, and preparing the ship for transport. Chakotay knew that Tuvok was not only the best choice for it but that Tuvok would enjoy doing it.

He considered that, the idea that he could enjoy what they just did. He knew the Vedek had made it possible for him to do hard things, inconceivable things and he knew that part of this was out of his control. However, silently in his mind he knew that the other part of it, taking pleasure from besting the enemy, was his to control and he did, finding pleasure in coming out on top.

Somehow, through the conditioning and the subsequent fears for the liberty and safety of his son, he had become something other than himself, something a lot older and more primeval. He felt the emotions inside, the ones that made it easy to follow orders such as these. They made it ... logical to step aside from his Star Fleet oath and make war against his own kind. They had taken his son, his Sek, a boy who had tried to foment peace. They had put him in a cage and his heart burned. He would not rest until they prevailed and if it meant doing hard things, so be it.

"Commander Tuvok."

He turned and gazed at Kira Nerys, his tactical officer. "We're nearing the outer buoys."

"Very well. Signal ahead that we're coming. Use the alpha one codes."

"Aye, sir," she said, her fingers pressing the requisite patterns. Away it went, signaling ahead that they were successful and coming home with a prize. The idea of it filled her with a pleasure she hadn't felt since her own victories over the Cardassians at Deep Space Nine. It made her feel good to do this and the momentary perplexing thought that flashed through her was gone just as fast. She had made her choice and she would live or die with this side. Maybe she could do something for someone else when it had been so impossible to do something for Bajor. She hoped so as she turned to her work, monitoring the barge that hung suspended between them like a jewel.

**********At Maquis HQ...

Tabor smiled and turned, catching Nayib's attention. He signaled the older man to come to him and handed him a padd. Nayib read it, a big smile forming on his handsome face. He turned to Tabor and grinned. Then he gathered him in his arms and kissed him like they were lovers. Tabor hugged him back, kissing him with all the pent up relief he felt. Together they kissed and then Tabor stepped back, panting for breath as he grinned. "Well, we must have news like this more often."

"Who needs news?" Nayib said, laughing with intense relief. "I already told you I'd do you over this desk but for Chakotay."

"I'd let you," Tabor said, tugging down his shirt.

Nayib smiled and shook his head. "You're a babe but you're my brother's babe. When he cuts you loose or you get smart and dump him, let me know. I have a serious case of blue balls I want you to look into."

Tabor laughed and hugged Nayib. "I will."

"Come on," Nayib said. "Let's go out and meet them."

They turned and hurried out the door, heading for the shuttle port nearby. They entered a shuttle and soon were on their way, followed by a flotilla of small fighters and a couple of tugs. By the time they were halfway to the buoy line, the ships had appeared on their had uncloaked, their auxiliary energy cells nearly regenerated to maximum and they flew together, the barge suspended between them like a fly caught in a spider web.

"Nayib to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Two to beam over. Okay?"

Chakotay chuckled over the line. "Sure. We'll beam you and Tabor to the Bridge."

Nayib nodded to his pilot and then stood still. The beam hit them and they disappeared, reappearing on the Bridge. Nayib roared with delight and grabbed Chakotay in a bearhug. Twirling him around, they hugged tightly, slapping each other on the back like a couple of drunken Cossacks. "Damn! You're *good* for us, Chakotay! I take back half of what I've ever said about you!"

Chakotay laughed aloud, slipping his arm around Tabor's shoulders.

"You're a sight for sore eyes too."

"Any hitches?" Nayib asked as they turned and walked to Chakotay's Ready Room.

"None," Chakotay replied as the door shut. "Tuvok was a machine. He was flawless."

Chakotay turned and kissed Tabor on the lips, lingering as he hugged him close.

"Look, you two can fuck later," Nayib said grinning broadly as he took Chakotay's chair. "Put your tongue back in your mouth and get the Fed President up here. I have spoken."

Chakotay grinned and shook his head, looking at Tabor with deep affection.

"He's a bossy bitch, isn't he?" Tabor said smiling broadly. "He wants to fuck me too. I'm telling you now just in case I end up over a divan or something."

"I know," Chakotay said, laughing. "You're too damned hot for your own good. Will you go down to the Brig and have the Federation President, the Federation Secretary of State and the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire brought up here in chains?"

"Sure," Tabor said, kissing Chakotay softly on the lips. He turned and left the room, both men staring at him as he went.

"He's good company," Nayib said, grinning as he tapped Chakotay's desk with his stylus. "It's hard to be around him without wanting to do him over the nearest solid bject."

Chakotay grinned at his brother, moving to flop in a chair. "He is a babe," Chakotay agreed. "He's a very, very good man, Nayib."

"I know," Nayib said, sighing tragically. "It's all I can do to maintain his virginity."

Chakotay snorted and put his feet on the table. "You're a dog."

"Maris thought so. It's part of my overall charm," Nayib agreed, leaning back and propping his own feet up. "I could get used to this."

"Good," Chakotay said. "I want you to start planning another sortie."

"All right. What's the target?"

"Enterprise."

Nayib stared at him, musing on the logistics. "All right. We have a man on there, Tom Riker. He'd have to come off first."

"If we do it right, we can take the ship without too much damage. We need her out of here and it would salt our case that we're equal to them in every way, so start negotiating."

Nayib nodded. "I'll get on it. By the way, remember Reg Barclay?"

"Yeah," Chakotay said, smiling. "Who can forget him?"

"He got Mama off Dorvan V. She's on her way here round about."

Chakotay sat quietly for a moment and then put his feet down, rising and moving toward the window. He turned and looked at Nayib. "Mama's coming?"

Nayib grinned. "Yep."

"She can't stay here. What if something happens. I mean, I want to see her, I *need* to see her, Nayib-"

"Settle down," Nayib said, raising a hand in supplication.

"She's on her way to the sanctuary where the girls and everyone are. She's just coming through to see us. She doesn't know about Bey."

"Do we tell her?"

"I think so, Chakotay. We have to be up front about everything with her. She's had enough lies. Reg is being smuggled in with her and when he gets here, I want him working on modifications to our communications relay into the Federation. I want to do more piggybacking off relays like the Midas. I want to relay in and out undetected different things, bigger things, and I think he's our man."

Chakotay nodded and then they both turned, watching as the door slid open. A tall distinguished looking man entered, followed by an older woman and another man. One of them, the Federation President, was human, the Secretary, Vulcan and the Ambassador, of human-Trill extraction. They moved into the room, burly security guards carrying phaser rifles nudging them gently with the barrels. They were shackled and they were ruffled. They looked like they had been phasered, which they were, and they stood n a half circle before the desk as Tabor scooted around them, moving to stand behind Nayib.

The older man stared at them, at these people who warred against him and he felt his father's presence in his heart. He lowered his feet and stood up, staring at them with his intense dark eyes. The Vulcan Secretary of State, Set, was impassive, a bruise on her cheek marking where she had fallen against the bulkhead before landing in a heap. The Trill hybrid was quiet, his dark eyes looking here and there. He was conjoined, a symbiont carrier and therefore of inestimable value to the Trill people. His name was Lan and he was beautiful, his dark markings weaving around very good features and disappearing into dark hair that was mussed from rough handling.

The President was tall, taller than many humans, and stood with imposing dignity even though it was clear that he was shaken. He was tanned and fit, dressed in expensive clothes and very blue-eyed. Chakotay flashed on Tom and then repressed the thought, not willing to harbor the dull ache that always followed. There was work to do now. He would mourn later.

"Well, well, well," Nayib finally said, a slow smile crossing his face. "Welcome aboard the Crazy Horse, friends. Of course, you might remember it as Voyager. I can't tell you what a pleasure it gives me to have you as guests of the Maquis people and the Maquis Revolutionary Council. On behalf of them and," he said, his voice becoming colder, "in the name of my father, Kolopak of Dorvan V, I welcome you to our humble abode."

Chakotay covered his smirk with his hand.

=0=

Book Twelve: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

Far away...

He sat on the chair, staring into space as others talked about him like he wasn't there. He hated doctors, especially head doctors and even though he knew it was 'for his own good' he still hated it. Passionately. He had just finished a battery of tests and even though they hadn't really sat and analyzed the material yet they were telling his mother, father and sisters that he was depressed. Clinically.

No shit he thought watching a patch of sunlight on the floor as it shifted and elongated, moving as tree branches moved in the soft breeze outside modified it. Everything is modified, molded, spindled, mutilated. What makes *you* so important, *Thomas*, that you should be exempt? *Let* them fuck you over. *Let* them put 'head case' on your jacket. *That* should get you back behind the helm in *no* time. Not that they would *let* you fly, you dumb bitch. You're a *fucking Maquis*!

"Tom?"

He looked up, meeting his sister's concerned eyes. He hated to see them. That's all he saw now, hooded concerned eyes. They looked at him like he was a piece of confetti waiting for a windstorm. "What?"

"We're done with the tests. When the doctors get it analyzed, we'll do a plan for you."

"I hear I'm depressed. That makes me depressed just hearing that I'm depressed. Am I suicidal?" he asked, his perversity warring with his love for his sister.

"Tom, please," Moira said, hurt in her voice.

He sighed and dropped his eyes. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Tommy," she said, using her name for him when he was a child in her distress. "We'll get through this."

"Will we?" he asked, looking up at her with a steady gaze. Then he noticed the doctors watching and turned his eyes away,

schooling his face into an emotionless mask. Fuck you, he thought, as he waited for them to leave.

Moira turned and smiled. "We're going now but we'll see you at dinner time. We'll dine with you here, Tom. All right?"

He nodded and she bent down, kissing his cheek. He watched as his parents, the doctors and his sisters left the room, the door closing and locking behind them. He was alone, a bed and chair for company and a window with a level seven security grid keeping him in. He wore another bracelet on his ankle and the door was secured by three systems. He was monitored medically by sensors and he had no place to go. "Fuck," he said, moving to lie on the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Chakotay but the pictures wouldn't come. He blinked his eyes, staring at a spot of sunlight on the ceiling and concentrated. He could remember dark eyes that loved him and a soft voice murmuring that he would belong to Tom forever.

Well, forever just arrived he thought and he had no way out. Tomorrow, the Parole Hearing Board would decide his fate and he could end up in a eight by twelve foot cell. He sighed deeply, wondering what to do and knowing with certainty that there was nothing he could do. He would either be here tomorrow for dinner or on his way to a Federation prison to join the rest of the disappeared into the belly of the beast. The mere thought of it made his blood run cold. The sensors recorded his reactions silently, making constant note of his condition as he lay on the bed all alone.

**********Later that night...

He touched soft skin, running his hand down a slim leg. It was warm and smooth, something that soothed him with every centimeter of the journey. Strong legs parted and he moved, edging closer to where he wanted to be. All the tension of the past days melted away slowly, replaced with a rising level of need that translated itself into movements of hands and lips.

Strong arms circled him as the legs moved up, gripping his hips and inviting him in. He devoured a sweet mouth, tasting soft lips and slid down to the silken skin of a neck that beckoned him with its pale skin. He bit it, all along its sloping decline, moving to shoulder and back again. Soft sounds of pleasure rose, adding to the tension that crackled in the air. He felt the strong legs cross, moving higher, more invitation to him to act. He moved his hand, the velvet heat drawing him and when he was finished, he moved toward it as if his life depended upon it.

A groan met his ear, a signal of success and he moved again and again, possessing the body that gave him what he wanted, holding him, gripping him, rubbing his back with long slender fingers. He moved strongly, giving back what he got and when he came it was like the sky was falling. He groaned and jerked, relaxing reluctantly and together they lay, holding each other.

Tabor sighed, stroking Chakotay's hair. He grinned slightly, warring over whether or not to tell him that he had called Tabor 'Tom' at least twice that he could remember. Tabor kissed his neck and decided not to. They were friends and lovers, two people who needed each other desperately. He was comforted and loved by Chakotay but he knew Chakotay loved Tom best. Chakotay comforted him and loved him and even though Chakotay loved Tom best, Tabor was finding himself drawn very strongly toward Chakotay's brother. Nayib was a lot like Chakotay, big and handsome, dedicated, inordinately smart and very, very tough. He was also a lot different. He was outgoing, sassy, funny to a fault and sexually provocative. He wanted to sleep with the big lug in the worst way. He was glad that Chakotay let him work with the big flirtatious man. However, he and Chakotay had a pact with the devil and until Chakotay told him that he was going to be okay alone and until Tom returned, Tabor would stay with him. He loved Chakotay that much. "Feel better?" Tabor asked, tracing circles in the sweat that was drying on Chakotay's shoulder.

"Always," Chakotay murmured. He rubbed his cheek against Tabor's face. "Thank you, babe."

"Thank you, Chakotay." Tabor smiled and looked out the window, noting the lights in the space dock where the President's shuttle was being overhauled. When it was ready it would be going back and Phase Two of The Plan would be put into motion. Until then, there was moments like this and the work of each day. He nuzzled Chakotay's neck as he held him in the darkness of their cabin.

**********Enterprise...

They got the news that the Federation was on alert and they themselves were detailed to find the ship that had taken the dignitaries. Picard had told them that they were looking with little reward but the Admiral had been adamant. "Find them, Jean-Luc. For now we're sitting on this. Feelers are out in all the places we have people. We have to get them back."

"Understood," Picard had replied and then the Admiral nodded and signed off. He had sat there a while and then went to dinner, food and a chat with Will clearing his head. Deanna had demurred, declining to join them and Will had leaned over,

kissing her softly. "Later," Will had said and as he did, as Deanna walked away, Picard wished he had something of his own for comfort and the promise of intimacy. But that was the way it went, he considered and no sense crying over it. They had a big mission ahead of them. He rose and walked to the door to return to the Bridge once more.

Riker noted his return and nodded. "Nothing new."

"I'm not surprised. I have a terrible hunch that we're only going to find them when they have us in their cross hairs. I'm considering having shuttles take the noncombatants off. Do you concur?"

Riker nodded. "Absolutely. If this does get hairy, I don't want children on board."

"Good," Picard said, leaning back. "I'll have Deanna organizean evacuation of all nonservice personnel and children starting first thing in the morning."

Riker nodded. "She'll get it done just fine."

Picard nodded and they gave their attention to the screen. "You knew this Chakotay, didn't you?" Picard asked. "He was your class wasn't he?"

Riker nodded. "It was a big class. We didn't meet much. We had the same courses but different tracks. He went into Tactics and Operations when I was doing Command and vice versa."

"He's put his training to good use," Picard said drolly. "I have a feeling we'll live to regret educating that one so well."

Riker grinned and nodded. "From what I remember, I think you're right."

Deanna Troi hurried to her rooms, the impression of Riker's lips still haunting her. She rubbed her mouth when she entered,

hurrying to the bathroom where she washed her face. Rubbing it with a towel, she considered his words. "You will be with me, for me, by me, or beside me if I say so and the mission requires it."

The thought chilled and she vowed not to be alone with him if she could help it. Something of her told her that he was Will, that Will would never force himself on a woman but part of her reminded her that this Riker had been in a prison camp and suffered. Who knew what he would be capable of now. She sighed and turned, walking to her desk where the computer beeped. She turned it on and read her new orders. They were getting ready for fighting mode and the noncombatants were to go. She was to organize the shuttle evacuation.

She nodded to herself and turned, walking to her dresser to reapply her makeup. When she was done, she felt better, armored even, and turning, she walked out the door to begin her task. By morning, three hundred and eighty-seven people would be on their way to rendezvous with ships that would take them to safety. Until then Enterprise would be shuttleless.

**********In Engineering, on the Sorrel Bay...

"Hi."

"Hi yourself."

"I was on my way to dinner and I thought you'd like to come."

She considered him and then looked at the work ahead of her. "Eat in my office." She considered his frown. "Take it or leave it."

Harry Kim nodded, following her up the steps to her office and once inside, they replicated food, sitting on the couches along the window side. "So, what do you think?"

"I think we did good. The technology is a bitch to keep aligned but it works and we win. That's all that matters."Harry regarded her and decided to go for broke. "Does Tom matter?"

She looked up and regarded him, sitting back as she gathered her thoughts. "Once."

"And now?"

"He's a Paris. I can't separate him from his father."

"He's *not* his father. He's *Tom*."

She sighed and looked away. "I don't expect you to understand but I'm telling you, Star Fleet, Tom and I are quits, we're over."

Harry looked at her, noting the finality in her eyes. "That's too bad. Do you think about him? He and Bey are in a prison probably. God only *knows* what's happening to him now."

She regarded him, the emotions that raged through her coalescing into a hard cold knot in her chest. "Well, it isn't like he hasn't been *there* before," she said, noting Harry's distress. She softened slightly. "Harry, I can't love him anymore. I can't be different than who I am. I tried to kid myself before but now it's all clear. I'm Maquis. I'm here, with *my* family, with the only people that accept me."

"Tom did, even before the rest of us. He loved you first and probably best. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

She stared at him, at his anguish and she felt sorry for him. The emptiness that filled that part of her heart had been burned in the crucible of her reawakening. Nothing that had been important before mattered now. Not the past, not Tom, not Janeway or anything. Only the Maquis, her friends and victory. As she thought it, she knew he would never understand."No, Harry," she said much more calmly than she felt. "It doesn't."

=0=


	13. Chapter 13

=0=

Book Thirteen: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Far away...

"Why did you run away?"

He sat and stared at them, at the three people who held his fate in their hands. Ordinarily, he would flip out an answer and wait for the sky to fall. He didn't care then but he did now. He didn't care to go to prison again. Once was enough. He didn't care to alienate them too severely. They held the fate of his life in their hands. It was always that way. He gave away that control and others would punish him. He had sought it out once, the punishment. He thought he was owed it. But that was then and this was now and he had other things to live for, like Chakotay and the rest of it, the Maquis, the ship, the crew that had become family, the outcome that would seal the fate of everyone that he loved and who he knew loved him.

He had to be smarter. He had to play the game and this time he had to keep what control he could because to lose it all meant to disappear for good. "I want to go home."

He heard his voice, the words with their loaded meanings that sort of detached from him as they left his lips. He saw them hang in the air like glittering things before dissipating and falling into nothingness. He blinked, the air clearing before him and he saw their faces, emotionless and flat, giving away nothing as they took everything from him.

"Home? Where is home, Mr. Paris?"

A woman asked him and through the sedative haze that they had given him, he nodded. "Voyager."

A man leaned forward. "You had some hard times on her didn't you."

He nodded.

"You crossed the Borg homeland and invaded the Queen's lair. You sparred with species that we never heard of. You did it alone. How do you feel about that?"

He looked at the man, at his age and his rank markings and for a moment flashed on his father. "Tom, please listen to Moira. If you don't pull this off you'll go into the prison system and we'll never see you again."

A pulse of fear passed through him and then was gone, like all his emotions right now save one. Sorrow suffused him, a deep and burning regret that if he failed here he would never see the ones that mattered. He would never see Chakotay again. A tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek, slowly leaving a wet trail. He blinked and another fell. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, memories of Voyager and his life there filling his mind.

"Mr. Paris, what are you thinking about?"

He sat a moment and then looked at them, an expression of ineffable sadness on his face. "Home," he whispered.

They sat a moment and then looked at the guard, nodding. He stepped over and took Tom's arm, helping him to rise. Tom did, feelings of sorrow and weariness filling him. He had answered their questions for over twenty minutes before it became clear he had no more words for them. He didn't know if he had passed or failed and right now, it didn't matter. All he wanted to do was lay down and be left alone. He turned and slowly shuffled out heading for his cell and the silence beyond.

**********Far away...

He stood in the doorway, watching as they worked together. They sat side by side, talking in low voices as they studied data maps and other detritus of war. Leaning against the door frame, he watched his brother, noting the happiness on his face as he worked. Tabor had the same look and Chakotay studied them, turning finally and slipping away. He walked down the corridor, calling for beam out and in minutes he was on Voyager again. He stood on the transporter pad and then turned, walking toward the lift beyond. Entering, he called for deck four and stepped out, following the curve of the corridor until he came to the place he needed to be.

Punching in the code, he stepped inside, the lights coming on at his command. The rooms looked empty, devoid of light and he moved to the desk, searching for something to remind him of the vitality that once filled these empty spaces.

A picture cube sat on the desk, each face of the square shape holding a picture. He held them up, examining the smiling face shining from each and sighed. Tom Paris inhabited each frame, surrounded by friends. He knew that Tom put them there, making sure that all of the people he loved were there at his finger tips. He noted a picture of himself, his hand resting on Tom's shoulder as both smiled for someone else.

He held the cube as he walked around and sat in the chair, staring at the walls that contained the art that Tom collected. Ships. Tom loved ships. Chakotay leaned forward and thought a moment, punching in numbers on the computer panel. "Computer, run the last five entries in Lieutenant Paris' personal logs."

There was a pause and then a familiar voice filled the room. "Personal log, who cares what date. We're back and nothing matters. Here we are in limbo. Sort of the story of my life. And it appears that fate isn't done with me yet. Chakotay told me that he loved me tonight. He told me that he had always loved me." There was a pause and Chakotay swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I love him too." Pause. "I wish ... I wish he had told me sooner. Sort of the old Paris luck that he tells me now when my life is turning to shit. Who would have thought that two people as different as us could find each other?

"Sometimes when you think about how big the universe is, you wonder how you can ever find anyone. We did but it's all too late." Pause. "I'm tired. Shift is coming. I better turn in. Paris out."

Chakotay sat a moment, silent as a statue and then it began again.

"Personal log ... today in the middle of my shift I came to a conclusion. B'Elanna and I, we aren't going to make it. I know that now. It's sort of like mourning I guess where you have to get pissed and then pathetic and then resigned. Well, I've been pissed and I've certainly been pathetic ... I think I'm just sad now. I'm just sad and resigned." There was a pause as Tom considered his feelings. His face was still and Chakotay stared at it, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm glad Chakotay is here." Tom sighed deeply, his eyes closing. "Paris out."

Chakotay rubbed his eyes, the cube firmly in his hand.

"Personal logs ... today, I kissed Chakotay for the first time. Did I tell you that I made a pass at Nayib? I guess I was so pathetic that I looked for a Chakotay substitute. Maybe I thought if I slept with Nayib it wouldn't be adultery in the same way it would be if I slept with Chakotay. I told you I was pathetic." He flashed a rueful grin. "Well, we slept together all right. He held me and talked to me and I didn't feel so alone." Tom paused. "I hate feeling alone. Before, it was like I deserved it but now things are different. I don't want to be alone." Tom sighed. "I never could figure out what I wanted before. I *knew* I wanted to fly. That was a given. Without flying, who was I? Nobody. That was enough in the past but now it isn't. Now it will never be enough."

Tom leaned forward, rubbing his face with his hands and Chakotay

noted something he didn't notice before. Tom wasn't wearing his wedding ring. Tom sat back and stared at the screen. "I suppose I'm supposed to be profound here. That's what this sort of private thing is I guess. Whoever reads this someday, if anyone ever does, is going to be disappointed. All I want to do is wrap myself around Chakotay's body and let him do with me what he will. All I want is someone to touch me and hold me and never leave me. I want you, Chakotay." Tom paused again and bit his lip. "Paris out."

Chakotay blinked, the tears hot in his eyes. "Computer, pause playback." He rose and walked to the window, the cube clutched in his hand. Moving away, he walked into the bedroom, staring at the place where Tom last slept. A uniform was tossed in a chair, probably left there at the last moment they were together and the closet door was ajar. Chakotay walked to it, pulling it open farther. Tom's sports gear, his clothes and a couple of his paper books were there just as he left them. Chakotay swallowed hard and blinked, hot tears falling from his eyes. He stood crying without a sound and then turned, walking back into the day room, moving to sit at the computer. "Computer, resume playback."

"Personal logs ... I had a relapse." He grinned. "I visited a professional. There's this Midran, Oola and she makes me feel less miserable. I can't have Chakotay. I can't even talk to

B'Elanna. She was there and so was I. It only helps for a moment or two. I know I'm committing adultery but it doesn't feel like it with her. How's that for being a jerk?" He paused a moment.

"I wish it was Chakotay. I wish I could go to him and be with him. I don't know what it is that keeps us from being together. I think its B'Elanna. She's there every minute, standing between us. I don't want her to totally hate me. She hates me enough as it is. She and Chakotay, they have something special and I don't want to fuck that up forever too." He sighed. "I think I'm going to be taking Bey some place. When we get back Chakotay and I are going to talk. No more of this. I need to know where I stand. I

mean I want to be with him. I know he wants me too. We have to talk." Tom glanced off camera, turning back. "I have to go. Harry wants me. Paris out." There was a pause and then he was back on, looking rushed. "Personal logs ... I have to go now. Bey wants me to fly him to the regional commanders meeting or something. I'll only be gone three days. When I get back, Chakotay and I are talking. I wish this was over. I'm not much for revelations or talking or all that kind of confessional shit but I have to do this. I love him." There was a pause and then he smiled. "I love him. Paris out."

The room became silent and then Chakotay rose, moving to the bedroom. He stared around him and then moved, lying down on the bed, suddenly deeply weary. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before closing his eyes to sleep.

**********Captain's Cabin, Crazy Horse...

Tabor walked in and noted how dark the cabin was. He moved inside, calling for lights. The desk had no message and the bedroom looked the same as when he had last seen it. Turning, he paused. "Computer, what is the location of Captain Chakotay?"

"Captain Chakotay is in Lt. Paris' quarters."

Tabor hesitated. He considered his thoughts a moment. "Computer, what is the condition of Captain Chakotay?"

"Captain Chakotay is well. Captain Chakotay is sleeping."

Tabor sighed and considered the situation that had swallowed all of them. He felt sorrow rising through him as he considered Chakotay's situation. Turning, he walked to the bedroom, pulling off his clothes. After he showered, he walked to the bed and climbed inside. He didn't believe that Chakotay would be home tonight but if he was he would be here. It would be a long time before he fell asleep this night.

**********Far away...

He lay on his bed, the moonlight streaming in. It was quiet and peaceful and for a moment or two he could pretend that nothing terrible had ever happened to him and that he wasn't confined in a mental institution in his home town while far away his friends fought an outsized battle against the Federation that had once been their home. He sighed, the words ringing in his head from the tribunal. They had told him his fate. He had listened without a sound and nodded, shuffling away to his room. He didn't see his family. He didn't see any doctors. He lay on his bed and watched the blue sky outside turn to darkness. In here, no one could touch him and he could wander in his memories as much as he wanted to. What came next was for later. Right now, all he would do is lie here as still as a mouse. Maybe if he was still enough, they would forget he was ever here.

=0=

Book Thirteen: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

Far away...

They sat in segregated cells isolated from one another. The night stars shown down in configurations much different than their ancestral homes and they stared at them as they awaited their fates. The attack had been a total surprise and the idea that their enemies had cloaking devices as developed as this was scary. They could go anywhere, even into the heart of the Federation. The possibilities were endless and it was frightening.

No one had talked to them after the initial interviews. The Maquis leader, tattooed and nameless had been relentless in questioning. They had even used drugs and he sat considering what he had told them in that condition. As President of the Federation, he was sure he had told many things that no one was supposed to hear. He had a lot of information in his head that had huge value. Now the Maquis knew it. He was greatly disquieted. They were being kept in cells apart, no one but the person who brought them food breaking the monotony of their day.

The guards didn't speak to them, probably under orders and he could only guess what was happening in the outside world.

The Federation would be put on alert and they would be looking for them. However, he was more than convinced that they would not go headlong into the Maquis homeland. The death rate on such a venture would be stupendous. For both sides. The moon was full, its light casting long shadows across the compound as he waited out another night. The thought that this could be the pattern of his life was deeply distressing. Years in a cage, it was almost more than he could consider and he suppressed his fears as he learned patience. He had value. Perhaps they would be leaving here sooner than they thought. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, sighing softly.

/... patience ... I must have patience .../

**********The next morning...

Chakotay walked into Nayib's office, the older man bent over a terminal. He glanced up and smiled, nodding toward a pot of tea. Chakotay poured a cup and sat, blowing on the hot liquid. Nayib straightened, picking up his own cup. He took a big sip and considered his younger brother. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Chakotay replied, grinning.

"Spill."

"Nothing to say."

"Bullshit. Never shit a shitter."

"Mama would wash your mouth out with soap."

"She'll be here in two days."

Chakotay nodded. "Nub, I don't think I can stand between you and Tabor anymore."

Nayib paused, gazing at his brother with serious eyes. "What brought this self-inflicted bit of altruism on?"

Chakotay grinned slightly. "The unexamined life isn't worth living."

"Maybe, *Socrates*, but since when did you give away your boy friends?"

"When they're in love with you."

"Chakotay ... I was only joking."

"No you weren't." Chakotay rose and walked toward him. "You're in love with Tabor. He loves you. End of story."

"I won't ... I don't want you to-"

"What? Do the right thing?"

"What 'right thing'?"

They turned and looked at the figure standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at both men sternly. "Tabor."

It was silent a second and then Tabor crossed the room, slipping his arms around Chakotay. They hugged for a long moment and then Chakotay stepped back. He regarded Tabor silently and then he sighed. "I'm in love with Tom. I love you, too, but in a different way. I can't do this anymore, not with Nayib involved. I'm sorry, Tabor."

"I know," Tabor said, looking at Chakotay intently. "You know, I said I would always be for you until you could stand on your own. I don't think you can now."

Chakotay shrugged. "I'll be fine. I don't want to stand between you and Nayib, Tabor. Please."

Tabor sighed and looked at Nayib, the older man's face solemn. "Aren't we a trio? How did we ever end up like this?"

"It's Paris' fault," Nayib jested gently.

"Yeah," Chakotay said, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"What about you, Chakotay?" Tabor asked, his dark eyes searching Chakotay's face intently.

"This can't last forever. It has to end and when it does I'll find Tom."

They both looked at Chakotay, realizing the futility of his words but then Tabor nodded.

"All right," he said, sighing. "I ... I'll be here if you need someone to talk to. I love talking with you, Chakotay. I don't want you to go away."

"I won't," Chakotay said, nodding. He sighed, the burden of his guilt lifting even as loneliness settled in its place. "I gotta go."

He turned and reached the door before Nayib's voice halted him. "Dinner."

Chakotay turned and nodded. Then he turned again and walked out the door, heading for the lift and the ground floor below. Tabor and Nayib watched him go and then Tabor turned, looking up into Nayib's emotional eyes. "This is so unfair."

Nayib nodded.

"Can we find out where Tom is?" Tabor asked.

"We'll do better. We'll find out where he is and go get him," Nayib said his expression hardening.

**********On the street...

He walked along, searching the crowds until he found the one he wanted. She was sitting at a cafe, sipping tea and he sat down with her without a word. She looked at him, her beautiful alien face filling with bemused annoyance. "Well, good morning, darling. I suppose we should kiss in case the Federals are watching."

Chakotay grinned in spite of himself. "Actually, I want to just talk right now."

"Ah. You're just never going to get over your personal shyness are you. That's such a roadblock to career advancement. Perhaps you would like me to give you confidence building lessons?"

"You're relentless," Chakotay said, grinning broadly.

"Well, I *am* your lover, after all."

He looked at her, at her mix of male and female sensuality and he could see why Tom was drawn to her. He leaned forward, meeting her coquettish gaze levelly. "I want you to tell me about a friend of mine who was a client of yours. I want you to tell me everything."

"Which one, darlin'. I have so many."

"Tom. Tom Paris."

She regarded him, filing away in her mind this admission of his weakness and considered his emotional eyes. He was seeking information on someone that was important to him. Maybe this would be useful to her at some later date. She leaned forward, her beautiful face and cleavage just inches from his body. "Tom Paris is one truly fine lover," she began.

**********Far away...

"It was hot where he sat, the sun beating down and he wondered when he could go inside. They had decided that he was mentally ill, too mentally ill to go into the prison system. They had confined him here at the Briars and he would receive treatment and the attention of his family rather than longterm confinement in the prison in New Mexico. His father had nearly wept so relieved was he that they had prevailed. It wasn't assured, a new sort of condition for Owen Paris, the man who always had his way. Now he would be a part of the life that Tom would have as he slowly made his way to wellness. Miriam *had* wept and his daughters as well and as he stood in the doorway watching the important officials gather to leave he considered his second chance. Tom most certainly wasn't well. He was clinically depressed, detached emotionally and determined to return to the band of renegades that had made such a mockery of all that he held dear.

In fairness to himself, he had fought at every meeting not to let the frontier go the way they had. He knew they would pay the piper on that decision on day. No one had listened and war had come anyway. A student of history, Owen Paris knew that appeasement only delayed the dues to be paid. It never ended them. Out of that weakness all hell had befallen the Federation that he loved and served all his life. All hell had befallen all of them and as he stood here, watching the people who had so much control over his home and family, he knew that this was part of it too. Tom was safe here and they would be able to help him away from this fatal dependency on the enemy. His relationship with the Maquis, Nayib would be over. Distance would sever that link. His son had told them that he was married. Then he said that he and the big Maquis were lovers.

Which was which? He didn't know. Surely his son hadn't married this Maquis? Surely ... Owen turned and walked back into the little lounge where his family sat. They were exhausted from nervous strain. Tom was in his room. They were here. He would sit and join them and wait for the doctors to come in. Whatever they told them to do they would all do. They would all help Tom to heal. This was his second chance and he wouldn't fail this time. He couldn't fail this time. The door closed silently behind him.

**********Far away, late at night...

Chakotay got home, calling for lights. His rooms were empty as he expected them to be. Tabor had gone leaving a note for Chakotay. He told him he loved him and he was his friend. He told Chakotay that they missed him for dinner and hoped he wouldn't disappear again. He sighed and walked to the bedroom, pausing for a moment. Then he turned and left his cabin, walking down the corridor to Tom's. He entered and called up lights. Pausing for a moment, he then walked to the bedroom, opening the closet. He pulled out Tom's bag and then began to pack it.

**********Nearby...

Nayib sighed, the man in his arms warm and beautiful. He looked at Tabor noting the same guilt in his dark eyes and smiled. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"I know," Tabor agreed sitting up straighter. "I don't know, Nayib."

"Do you want to wait?"

"No," Tabor said ruefully. He smiled. "I want you in the worst way. I just feel guilty."

"Chakotay is a strange bird. He's got this masochistic streak in him, Tabor. It has nothing to do with you or me. We're just part of this moment's self-flagelation. All his life when he decided to do something, he would do it and if it stung so be it. He won't stand between us anymore, he said."

"I know," Tabor said, moving closer to his new lover. "I told him I would be with him until he cut me loose or I thought he could be alone."

"I know. I think we need to talk about this self-sacrificing side of your personality."

Tabor chuckled. "We're a race of martyrs."

"On the altar of love," Nayib said in a low sexy voice. He moved forward and Tabor lay back, moving his legs apart for his lover to lie down. "You're my love sacrifice. I'm going to skewer you and roast you over the coals of my pent up lust."

Tabor chuckled, running his hands up and down the broad shoulders of his lover. "Tell me more, baby," he whispered as Nayib's lips hovered above his.

"I'm going to spit you, baby, on my rotisserie of love and when you're done basting in my heat, I'm going to fuck you until you can't stand up."

Tabor swallowed and sighed. "Are you all talk or are you going to show me what you mean?"

Nayib chuckled in spite of himself. He rose and pulled Tabor to his feet. "I'll need more room," he said, tossing Tabor over his shoulder. He turned and walked into the bedroom, tossing the younger man onto the bed. Tabor bounced and lay back, watching Nayib as he slowly and deliberately began to unfasten his shirt.

"Hurry up," Tabor said, licking suddenly dry lips.

"No problem," Nayib whispered as his shirt slipped to the floor at his feet.

=0=

Book Thirteen: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

Nearby, on the Sorrel Bay ...

Harry Kim walked into the mess hall, noting that few people were there this time of the night. He had finished the survey of the cloaking devices with Seven, who had retired to her regeneration for the night. Sitting near the window, coffee cup in hand, Julian Bashir sat, his profile illuminated by the light of the window. Harry took a piece of pie from the counter and replicated a cup of coffee. Hesitating a second, he walked over and sat down with the doctor. "Hi," he said, smiling brightly.

"Hi, Harry. How was your day?"

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Probably as weird as yours."

"So I'm not alone at feeling odd here."

"Not hardly," Harry said, beginning his pie. "You're at home in a crowd."

"I'm having a hard time keeping it all straight."

"Sometimes I do too, that is until I think about Sam and Naomi Wildman in prison in the Federation."

Julian nodded pensively. "It seems a lot different out here."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"You going home?"

"After this. You?"

"I was going to wait for Miles but he's on duty. They called him in."

Harry nodded. "We keep what we call 'Delta hours' out here. You go when you're needed, where you're needed."

Julian nodded. "What do you think will happen to all of us?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I wouldn't count us out. I know from the Delta that we won't go down easy."

Julian nodded. "It's good talking to you."

Harry smiled slightly. "You too, Julian. Pie?"

Julian smiled slightly himself. "Sure."

Harry rose and walked to the counter, picking up the last piece of pie. He turned and walked back, handing it to the slender physician. He sighed and sat, noting outside the window the constant activity of the port. "Some day, Julian, when this is all over, what great tales we can tell."

Julian grinned and nodded. "Yeah," he said simply.

**********Captain's Cabin, Crazy Horse...

He put all of Tom's things in his spare closet, all but the picture cube. He held it in his hand as he stood by the window, watching as ships and crews went about their business. He knew that Tabor was with Nayib and the burden of guilt that had plagued him lately was eased at the thought. A part of him was selfish, missing the quiet man's company but a part of him was infinitely glad for Nayib. Those two were meant for each other.

Turning, he walked to the replicator, programming a glass of wine. Taking it in hand, he walked to his couch and sat, the picture cube in hand. Leaning forward, he sat it on the coffee table, leaning back to stare at the smiling face of his lover.

"Be well, wherever you are. I'll find you, Tom."

He saluted the picture with his glass, taking a sip of the pungent liquor. Leaning back his head, he closed his eyes and let images of Tom that he could still recall clearly fill his head. They were getting fewer and fewer as the days passed and he resolved to make pictures for the walls of his cabin, big pictures of Tom's smile. He didn't want to forget it.

Ever.

He would substitute them until he had Tom in his life once more. With a sigh, he relaxed his body and brooded on images of Paris.

*********Nearby...

Nayib sighed, lying heavily on the sweat-soaked body of his lover. Tabor still clung to him, his face burrowed into the dark heat of his neck. He nearly engulfed the smaller man, in the course of taking Tabor had felt him almost merge with his own self. /... it's been way too long since you last did this, Nubby ... you might have killed him .../

"Tabor?"

For a moment it didn't pierce Tabor's sex soaked mind and then he turned his head slightly, Nayib's words filtering through the fog of his release. "What?"

"Are you still alive?"

Tabor smiled, licking sweat as it trickled down Nayib's broad shoulder. "Probably."

Nayib chuckled and raised himself up on his elbows, staring down into Tabor's flushed, sweaty face. "Hi."

"Hi," Tabor replied, tightening the grip his legs held on the bigger body splayed on top of him. "Don't move too much. Stay a while."

"Did I hurt you?"

"I don't know. I'm numb from the waist down."

Nayib chuckled, kissing Tabor on the lips. "All my men say that."

"You shit," Tabor replied good naturedly.

Nayib kissed him, lingering in Tabor's mouth and then his senses began to return. He remembered devouring the younger man's body, his cock, luxuriating in the hairless smoothness of Bajoran legs, arms and balls. They had no body hair, something he was supremely used to on himself but the idea of thick hair on Tabor's head and none elsewhere was something worth exploring.

With his tongue.

He had.

Extensively and passionately.

Tabor was responsive and opened his entire body to Nayib's ministrations, his own hands touching and caressing all that they could reach. And it was plenty. Nayib, over six foot two inches, was built. Muscular and sculpted from years of hardship and labor in the Maquis, he was more than Tabor could have imagined.

And the Bajoran had imagined.

The idea of Nayib as someone attractive had begun the moment Tabor had seen him. Bey, Chakotay and Nayib were big men, Chakotay being the smallest of the three. They were all handsome and seen together, a sight for sore eyes. Seen naked, well, that was something else and during Nayib's deliberately slow striptease, Nayib ached to have him. Now that he had, he ached because of it but he didn't mind. It felt good, that peculiar throbbing following sex with a man. He sighed, his legs slipping away as Nayib turned on his side. A big hand rested on Tabor's chest, stroking his cooling skin and fingering his nipples. He lay quietly, Nayib's leg thrown over his, pinning him to the bed. He grinned. "What?"

"I find it hard to keep a straight face knowing that I've carnal knowledge of both of you."

Nayib grinned. "You're quite the slut when you want to be."

Tabor snorted. "Yeah?"

"No," Nayib said, leaning down and kissing Tabor thoroughly. "You're mine."

"Yeah," Tabor said, smiling.

"How does your ass feel?"

"Sore."

"I'll put something in it when you're through with your shower."

"Something besides your big dick?"

Nayib snorted. "At least you're faithful to size."

"You're very confident, aren't you?"

"About some things," Nayib agreed good naturedly. "About fucking and fighting, sure. Composing poetry, toe-dancing and being dumped, nope."

"I heard about Maris. I heard he was a blond Klingon bottom. That isn't possible is it?"

"Sure," Nayib said, smiling. "I had to find out for myself. He was only half Klingon, he liked getting it up the ass as often as possible and he dumped me. The bitch."

"I can't imagine."

"Me either," Nayib agreed.

"I mean, a blond *Klingon*?"

Nayib grinned, his dimples eerily familiar. "You're a shit."

"You're a top. What about it? Am I ever going to top you?"

Nayib thought a moment. "Maybe. If I'm drunk enough."

"I'll remember that."

"Good. I'm not a bottom. I don't catch, I don't care for it. Never have. All my boy friends have been bottoms. Maris, he was in a class by himself, I agree. However, I am what I am."

"I like it," Tabor said, brushing dark hair back from dark eyes. "We'll work the details out as we go."

"I knew you were a keeper the first time I saw you."

"Good. Keep me."

Nayib rolled over, covering Tabor's body with his own. He kissed the younger man, sighing softly. "Life is a bitch isn't it."

"Yeah," Tabor agreed, shaking his head. "Kiss me. Fool."

Nayib smiled. "Bossy little wench aren't you."

"You don't know the half of it yet."

Nayib grinned and complied.

**********Far away...

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked in line, heading back to the barracks for a shower before dinner. Ahead of him, his shoulders straight and his hair nearly snow white, his father walked. It had been almost a devastation to see Kolopak again, the memories of him being surrounded by Cardassians the last thought of his day and the first one of the next his constant companions for years. Now they were here, stuck in the same prison and he had taken up his former role, companion and protector of his father. Word had spread that Beyvahl had been taken and true to the Maquis code of honor, no one told his true identity. Nayib was his name now and Nayib it would be.

Unknown to them, circulating among the other prisoners, the conspicuous absence of Tom Paris was being noticed. The Voyager crew defended him, telling the long timers that Tom was true to them. They insisted he must be in Auckland, serving the sentence that he had before being paroled to Voyager. The others, unfamiliar with Tom's resurgence to his own sense of self and the deeds he had performed over and over, had other ideas. None of it reached Beyvahl and Kolopak. Not a word. They entered the compound and the lines dispersed, walking toward their barracks and the cool water that made life bearable after a full day in the fields. Kolopak turned, smiling at his son. He was deeply torn by Bey's presence, filled with joy at seeing him and with despair that his son was consigned to this place.

Sek followed them, a part of their company and a part of the internal organization that kept discipline and maintained morale. His quiet presence and keen intellect was most welcome. They stripped and washed, donning clean tunics and pants, slipping into their sandals as they finished their toilet. Walking to the barracks, they chatted about this and that. The guards behind the barricades watched them, pleased with the docility of the inmates. That made their life a lot easier out here in the blazing heat. Of course, the real conversations were saved for later when the darkness fell and people could come and have their audience with Kolopak as he and the other Council members handled the daily business of incarceration among the inmates of Federation Prison Number Ten.

=0=

Book Thirteen: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

Tom Riker stretched and rose, looking around the Bridge. The shift was changing and he was heading for dinner. It had been three weeks since the changeover and he had not been false in his steps even once. He felt good, filled with pleasure at the return to the familiar home of his ship once more. Troi had been no problem, doing her part thoroughly. A communication from home told him that Will was fine, pacing in his cell and periodically making demands. His men, former Maquis to the last man, ignored them of course.

All was well.

He had gotten a message on the piggyback system that the Maquis had developed partly using his money and resources. He had been a major player for many years, moving through the Federation, attending functions and being courted for his company assets and his handsome face. It was amusing to a number of highly placed people that he was a carbon copy of Commander Will Riker. People in Star Fleet enjoyed the company of this man who wasn't the Commander, many of them making sexual liaisons, long term and short, courting his intellect and his amusing company.

He had many contracts, both in and out of the military, and was noted for his daring innovations in ships, ship technology and communications. He was immensely wealthy and cultivated only the best around him. He was fun, amusing, intelligent, restless, and daring. He was also Maquis to the core of his being. They had rescued him from oblivion, giving him a place to work, live and belong. He had never forgotten that, not once in the prison camps and not once since liberation. He had poured his single-minded focus and his intellect into building a small shuttle business into a conglomerate that was sought out by all kinds of people and all kinds of businesses.

It had been his monument to the rejection he had so handily been given by Picard and Riker, his 'brother'. He would show them. He would show them all. Just like now, on the Enterprise, helping his people in their quest for survival and triumph. It amused him greatly. He stepped off the lift and walked to his cabin, pausing to chat up an ensign. She was pretty, blonde and well-built. She was flattered and she liked him, pure and simple. He considered his options and filed her in his mental rolodex.

Since Troi probably wouldn't be putting out any time soon, it paid to have a back up. Entering his cabin, he paused and noted he had three messages. Sitting, he opened them. Two were ship's business and one was a camoflage message from the Maquis. "Find the way back for our lost brother. T. P is gone to a different port." He erased it, knowing that it would eliminate itself from the computer's memory banks, thereby being untraceable in any circumstances. He sat back, considering his new orders. Someone wanted to know where Tom Paris was. He wasn't in the prison ith Bey. He was some place else.

Sitting forward, he composed a message to his home, knowing that his strong right arm would receive it and seek that which was missing. If anyone could find Tom Paris, he could, he mused as he rose and walked to the bathroom. In minutes he would be showered and changed into civvies. Then he would call and invite Ensign Beautiful to dinner at his place. If all things worked out he would get laid and have feminine companionship while he served on Enterprise. It didn't matter to him if it wasn't the vaunted Deanna Troi. Besides, he liked blondes. Especiallyyoung sexy ones like this. Troi? She was a part of that old picture, the sour one that flowed from old hard times. He wasn't sure he could fuck her if he had to. He mused on his old bitterness as he commed his ensign. It wouldn't do to let it get out of hand he thought as he smiled at the beautiful face on his screen. "Hello, Andrea. I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight?" From the blushing smile of pleasure on her face, he knew that she was. He grinned back and sighed. It was good to be home he thought as he listened to her agree to come. It was good to be home indeed.

**********At the Maquis HQ...

She walked beside him, her dogs by her side and when she entered the office her smile was brilliant. Nayib paced, Chakotay sitting silently as Tabor watched both of them. It was very tense and when the small dark-haired woman entered the room, both men rose, their immense emotional turmoil visible on their faces.

It was a riot of hugs and laughter, two big men embracing a tiny woman. They talked in a language he didn't know and Tabor waited, smiling along with the other people in the room as they enjoyed the moment too. Finally, it settled down and they sat together, two big men on each side of a tiny woman, one small hand enveloped in a big one.

"Mama, you look well."

She grinned. "I am older, Chakotay, seven years older. You look the same except around the eyes. You have sad eyes, my son."

Chakotay shrugged, smiling slightly. "It's been a hard seven years, Mama."

"I know, baby," she said, squeezing his hand. "You look well, Nayib. I'm upset about Beyvahl."

"We're going to get him and Papa out."

She swallowed hard at the mention of Kolopak. "I miss him."

The room stilled and the dogs at her feet rose up, sensing her distress. She patted them and looked at her sons. "Don't risk lives to do it. I don't think I could bear to lose you too."

"You know us. We're devious," Nayib said, grinning.

"I know *you*, Nayib. *You're* devious. My Chakotay, I can read him like a book."

Chakotay snickered, grinning at his brother. Nayib smiled and shook his head. "Mama, this is Tabor. He's my lover."

"Maris is gone?" she asked, a big grin on her face.

"He dumped me, the swine."

"Good," she said, patting his knee. "That man was unstable. A relationship can maybe stand one unstable element, not two."

"Thanks," Nayib said looking at her with amused indignation.

"You're welcome. Come, Tabor, sit here," she said patting at a place on the end table. "Tell me, child, you're religious?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tabor said, sitting.

"You love my son?"

Tabor glanced at Chakotay and then Nayib. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're not totally insane are you?"

They all laughed and Tabor grinned broadly. "Not usually."

"Good. Welcome to our family," she said, patting his knee. Turning to Nayib, she fixed him with a baleful eye. "I approve of this one. Don't mess it up."

Nayib snickered. "Your wish is my command, darlin'."

"Good," she said, chuckling. "See that you do."

In the doorway, watching with nearly worshipful eyes, Reg Barclay got his first real glimpse of Commander Chakotay of Voyager.

**********San Francisco...

He stood on the curb, his eyes shaded by his hand. The Briars was before him, impeccable in its facade of wealth and respectability. It was a sculptured and manicured place and he knew that this was where Tom Paris had ended up. He had accessed the message traffic of the Penal System and Owen Paris. It hadn't been hard with the hardware that they possessed. Now all they had to do was wait for instructions. He was sure they would have to break him out. It was doable, they considered. It would be smuggling him away that would be harder. But none of it would be impossible. It just required planning and patience. He had learned both in the camps during the war. He was good at both. All he needed was a signal from his leader and he would act. Tom Paris would be free and on his way back to the DMZ.

**********Enterprise...

Jean-Luc Picard walked back to his cabin, the late hour of little concern. Beverly Crusher had finally allowed dinner with him at her place of course, the first act of social contact since learning of the capture of her son by the Maquis. They had talked and talked, eating very little and by the time he headed home he could see that she felt better for it. That was good he thought, the chestnut-haired woman a focal point on the ledger of things that enchanted him. As he rounded the corner, he saw a pretty blonde, her long hair flowing free standing in the doorway of Will Riker's cabin.

They were talking together, very close together and then Will leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back and then reluctantly turned for the lift. Picard watched Will watch her and then Riker stepped back inside his cabin, the door closing. Picard stood stunned to say the least. Deanna and Will had a solid relationship, or so he thought. However this had shaken

that belief. He took a deep cleansing breath and continued on. It was not his policy to interfere with the private affairs of his officers and he wouldn't here. He would however be ready to listen if either of them needed to talk. That he could do, he thought as he continued on to his cabin his tranquility a bit less tranquil than before.

**********First Officer's Cabin, Enterprise...

He turned and smiled, moving to clean up his quarters. He had a fetish for cleanliness and he made short work of the table and day room. Moving to the bedroom, he noted the wrinkled sheets. He pulled them and after pausing to sniff the pillow slips with her perfume still lingering, stuffed them down the 'fresher. Turning, he stuffed his clothes down and walked into the shower, turning hot water on and leaning into it. It felt good running down his back, her fingernail traces bright red in the showering cascade.

The ensign was not only beautiful she was one hell of a lay and he decided to cultivate her in the short term. They had laughed and talked, finding many mutual areas of interest and if he had been anywhere else, he would make sure that his young woman was someone he got to know better. However, this wasn't anywhere else. It was Enterprise and he had a job to do. Still, he liked her a lot and was determined to have companionship on this bucket, regardless of Troi.

She would probably be relieved he thought with a wry smile. Stepping out, he toweled off, slipped into sleep gear and made his bed. Stretching out, he considered his day and smiled. Not a bad day all-in-all. He would find Tom Paris, he got laid, he had fooled them for another day. A good day indeed he thought, turning over to sleep. A good day indeed.

**********Crazy Horse...

They had dinner together, talking well into the evening and then Chakotay brought his mother back to the ship. He had given her Janeway's cabin making sure she was tucked in before leaving her alone with her two dogs in the big double bed. He had gone to his own cabin, falling into bed and as he lay there he wondered once again where Tom was and how he was doing. Nayib had told him earlier in the evening that Tom Riker was looking for him and so he felt better. That man was like a bull dog and when

he set out to do something, it got done. He sighed and settled in, waiting for sleep to come. He was too tired and emotionally wrung out by his mother's presence to do more than lay there. He was too tired for jerking off, too tired for anything more than cuddling. Maybe he should have taken one of his mother's dogs he thought, snickering. "Good night, Tom. Hang on." His words echoed in the empty room, comforting him with their sentiment. He closed his eyes and sooner than he thought he was asleep.

**********Far away...

Tom walked along the path that wove through the grounds. It was beautiful and sunny, the hot sun welcome to his cold soul. His days were simple. Rest, talk, exercise and repeat. He could handle that. Not for years and years but for a while. A high wall of stone separated him from the view of the ocean nearby and the tree covered hillsides on the other side. He couldn't see the city, nor could he see the two men that sat on a rock on the hillside overlooking Briars, patiently waiting for the word. When it came, they would come too. And Tom Paris would disappear into the night once more.


	14. Chapter 14

=0=

Book Fourteen: Nuclear Winter 1/4

=0=

Captain's Cabin, Crazy Horse, late at night...

It was quiet, the day closing. He sat on the couch, a beer in his hand and a pile of work on his desk. He was tired, the work would be there in the morning and he decided to let it go for a while. He wanted to just sit and rest. His mother had left that morning taking a shuttle and her two dogs to the safe place at Qos'nos where Klingon sympathizers would keep her safe along with the rest of the family. It had been wrenching to see her go but it was for the best.

He reached for a padd Nayib had given him right after his mother's shuttle disappeared from view and read it again for the fifth time. It had good news. Tom was located. He wasn't in the prison system as Chakotay had feared. He was in an easier place to breach. He was in a fancy rest home.

Of course, he knew that was a euphemism for 'crazy house'. Tom was locked in a nut house. That part really bothered him. He was afraid for Tom. He worried what his frame of mind was that he would be placed there. Then he gathered his fears and applied logic. First, Tom's father was an admiral. He was the third highest-ranking admiral in Star Fleet. Secondly, his father was someone who would be able to pull strings to get things done that mere mortals couldn't. Thirdly, Tom was back at last from the grave. If his father had any kind of humanity, and Chakotay wasn't sure if this were true from what he had heard second and third hand, he would want to keep his only son close to him. Maybe the world was upside down and he was interested in being a father to the wayward man that must have given him more than a few sleepless nights in his youth. God knows Tom had given *him* a few of those himself. Maybe Owen Paris had finally become a man.

Maybe the universe would spin backwards and he would be able to get his commission back from Star Fleet too. He sighed and sipped his beer, the sour cold liquor sliding down his throat pooling in his stomach. He sighed. Tom was in a nut house, Nayib was sleeping with his ex-boy friend and all he had was his hand, his fears and endless dark nights to get through alone. So much

for altruism. He reached over and picked up the picture cube. Tom's handsome face smiled out at him, his boyish looks filled with vitality and a love of life. This picture he remembered. They were on a planet sitting in a bar and Tom was laughing at a joke. He remembered it, the smell of wood burning on the fire and the reflection of Tom's face in the mirror behind him as he sat, laughed and told jokes.

It was a good day and he remembered it, watching Tom sitting with B'Elanna and wishing it was him sitting that close, Tom's hand touching his arm from time to time, not hers. What about days to come, he thought? What would happen tomorrow? He didn't know. He just knew that he was clear about Tom, he knew where he was and if there was any kind of hope in the universe directed toward him, he would see Tom again. When he did he would never let him out of his sight.

A ship passed outside, flying silently as it carried a load of supplies to a small vessel nearby. Chakotay never saw it nor did he hear it. It merely moved past in the endless night of space.

**********Far away...

"You look better."

"Thanks, Mom. How are you doing?"

She sat and smiled, taking Tom's hand into hers. "I feel so much better knowing you're safe."

Tom smiled, sighing deeply. "Well, that's relative I suppose."

"It's beautiful here, don't you think? This is a good place for you to stay until you can come home, son."

"I wonder when that's going to be?"

Miriam Paris shrugged helplessly. "I know it won't be forever."

"I hope not."

A bird began to call and they looked up, watching a big seagull fly over. Tom watched it wistfully, sighing as it disappeared from view. "Beautiful bird," his mother said, moving closer on the bench and slipping her arm through Tom's. "I love birds."

"I know. You loved animals a lot."

"Tom? May I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Tom said, staring at the top of the stone wall that blocked the view of the ocean beyond.

"Tell me about your wife."

Tom glanced at her and sighed. "Not much to tell. We were together and now we aren't."

"What was she like?" his mother asked gently.

Tom thought a moment and then shrugged. "I don't know. I thought I did. I *really* thought I did. But things change. We were under a lot of pressure and things happened. I guess I just didn't see them coming in time to do anything about them."

"Was she a nice person? What was she like?" Miriam asked looking into Tom's sad face. "What made you love her enough to marry her?"

Tom thought a moment, almost too long and then he shook his head.

"I liked her heart. I liked her unbending, unflinching heart. You know, she never thought she was beautiful or good enough. She was tough, B'Elanna was, but she never felt very good about things. Maybe that was what linked us. She and I, we were a lot alike."

"You were a wonderful pilot, always. You never had any fears about that did you, son?"

"No, not really. I never felt that there was anything to fly that I couldn't fly. I don't think that was boasting. I think with flying, it was the thing that Dad couldn't touch in my whole life. Even if I didn't measure up to anything else in his eyes he had to concede that I'm the best pilot ever."

Miriam sighed, gazing at Tom with dark eyes. "You were wonderful. You always were at more things than flying, son. This girl, B'Elanna? Did she love you back the way I hope she did?"

Tom smiled slightly, squeezing his mother's hand. "I think so. For a while anyway. You know, we didn't have much in common. We had each other and we had the common enemy, the Delta. But when it was any other time we didn't have much between us. She was an engineer but she liked big ships and fixing big things. Small things like cars and shuttles, they weren't very interesting to her. I never really did know what she liked. I didn't try sometimes and other times I tried too hard. Sometimes I was the only one trying."

"She sounds complex."

"She was. Very," Tom agreed, sighing deeply. "I loved her madly. I was mad to love her. We were both mad at each other half the time. We were friends first and lovers secondly. I think in the end, we didn't have enough between us. I thought we did. I was ..." He caught himself smiling ruefully. "I thought in the end I was enough."

"You weren't?"

"It's so complicated, Mom. She was hurt by so many things. The Maquis, they were her family before me. They took care of her before she ever knew me; she gave them everything. We were told they were destroyed. When she found out, she began to hurt herself. We were scared she'd kill herself before she found her footing again. And then ... then maybe we *thought* she did and

she really didn't. I don't know. It's very complicated."

"It sounds very sad, son."

Tom sat a moment and then nodded, his expression changing. He sighed. "It is, Mom."

They sat together a moment, companionable in silence. "Tommy?"

"What, Mom?"

"Tell me about this Nayib. Your father told me what you told him. You've confused us greatly, son."

Tom sat a moment, the image of Chakotay filling his mind. He smiled slightly at the warmth of it. "He's a good man, Mom. You'd like him. He's a good, good man."

"Did you turn to him when your marriage went wrong?"

"No. He turned to me. He never told me what he felt until it was too late. He loved me a long time. I wish he had said something. I really regret that we didn't talk until everything went wrong. I love him. He's my lifeline to sanity." Tom grinned slightly. "He ... he likes the mushy stuff."

Miriam was quiet a long time. Then she leaned her head on her son's broad shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm so sorry."

Tom kissed the top of her head. "It's not your fault, Mama. It's not anyone's fault. Sometimes, all you do is live the best way you know how and life deals you crap hands."

"You don't deserve this. None of you do. This whole business, this war business, I wish it would end. I wish we could find the peace and keep it."

"I do too, Mama," Tom whispered softly. "You and me both."

**********On the Sorrel Bay...

Julian Bashir stretched and yawned, rising slowly from his bed. He walked to the bathroom, relieving himself and doing his usual morning routine. The doorbell chimed and he called out, smiling as Miles O'Brien walked in, grinning broadly as he walked to the bathroom door. Leaning on it, he watched Julian wipe shaving cream from his face. "A beard suppressant would take care of that."

"A barber would take care of it faster," Julian reposted, "and it would feel heavenly."

"You look disheveled. What did you do? Go on a bender last night?"

"Not likely," Julian replied, stepping from his bathroom and walked to the bureau. He pulled out his Maquis clothes and put them on, noting that Miles watched him as he did. He sighed and considered that, noting that the friendly sparring that they had on Deep Space Nine had taken a more direct meaning here on the edge of oblivion. They had teased about their affections in the past, their devotion as friends drawing friendly commentary from others. Here on Sorrel Bay, flying missions with the Maquis against the massed might of the Federation had put an edge to the relationship that had crept up on both of them. Even Kira had commented to him on it. He turned and smiled. "You want to eat?"

Miles eyed him, his sharp eyes considering his reply. "Breakfast?"

Julian paused and then pulled his tunic on, fastening it as he considered Mile's reply. He grinned slightly. "Are you making a pass at me?"

Miles looked at him but no smile came. "What if I am?"

Julian's smile faded. "Miles, I don't think that this is wise."

"Why?" Miles asked, direct as always.

Julian held his gaze and then turned, walking into the day room. Miles rose and followed him, watching as he walked to the replicator. He turned and looked at O'Brien, measuring him against the thoughts that tumbled in his mind. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Miles walked to the couch and sat on the edge of it, considering Julian as he did. He was tense, away from home and hearth, and Julian was his best friend, the one person he would hope to be stranded with if lost on a desert island, or taken hostage by the Maquis. They had languished very little time in the pokey but while he was there he knew they would not be escaping from this one. It had the feel of permanence somehow. They would be here a long time and allies and friends would be crucial for mental survival as well. Julian he loved, he truly did. Julian was his brother and his friend and his pal. They had a friendly rivalry and a deep understanding of each other. They knew each other very well. He could love Julian in other ways too, protecting him against the dangers all around him and he know Julian could too if he thought about it. He was putting that thought into Julian's mind now. "I'm not hungry."

Julian turned and he finished his thought. "For food."

Julian paused and then finished replicating his meal. Turning, he sat it on the table, taking a seat. He began to eat as Miles walked toward him, sitting down close to him at the table.

"How long are you going to ignore what I'm saying?"

Julian looked at him. "I don't know."

"You know how I feel and you've known long before this. I've said it before."

"I know."

"Then consider it. This may be the only life we have, here with these people doing these things. I want you to think about that too."

"You don't think we'll ever get home again?"

"I didn't say that, Julian. I'm just saying we have to think about things the way they are, not the way we wished they were or they once were. This is war and these people aren't playing around. We're here for the duration I'm thinking and we have to make a place for ourselves. Together."

Julian sighed and looked at him. "Tell me directly what you are trying to say in circles."

Miles looked at him for a long time and then rose, suddenly uncomfortable. He moved to the window and looked outside. "I'm better at showing."

Julian looked at him and felt a grin spreading across his face. He turned away from Miles, considering what the showing could mean. Then he rose and walked to the window, staring out at the activity beyond. "Are you saying you want a relationship?"

Miles mused on it a moment and then nodded. Looking at Julian, he nodded again. "Yeah, that's what I'm saying."

"You want a sexual relationship. With me. Here, on this ship."

"Well, not exactly."

Julian looked at him in surprise.

"There'll be times we won't be on this ship."

Julian grinned in spite of himself and leaned against the window, folding his arms in front of him. "You want to sleep with me."

"Yes."

"You want to have carnal relations with me."

"Yes."

Julian took a deep breath and let it out slow. "I'll have to think on it."

"That's good. Think on it," Miles agreed, looking at Julian with agreement. "Thinking is good."

"We could get killed tomorrow."

"Yes, we could," O'Brien agreed. "Where would we be then?"

"Dead, I should think."

Miles grinned, looking at Julian with true affection. "I would never say this to another person but you. Never."

"I know," Julian said, grinning. "Are you hungry?"

Miles smiled and Julian rolled his eyes. "For food, you bastard."

"Well, that too."

They turned and walked back to the table, Julian to sit and Miles to replicate his meal. He turned and grinned at Julian. "Man cannot live on bread alone," he said, watching as Julian struggled to hide his grin. "I would hate to die a celibate man."

"Your reasoning is flawless. I'm surprised you chose engineering over law or philosophy."

"You meet a better class of people in the sciences," Miles said, turning and sitting down at the table. He reached across and took Julian's hand. "A whole lot better class."

Julian grinned. "Eat your breakfast."

Miles chuckled and began, eyeing Julian with curiosity. "So when will you tell me your answer?"

Julian smiled. "When I'm done consulting my lawyers."

Miles rolled his eyes and sighed. "There goes the neighborhood."

They both laughed and dug into their food, the emotions between them out in the open at last.

=0=

Book Fourteen: Nuclear Winter 2/4

=0=

Owen Paris hurried down the hallway, his staff following. The situation involving the disappearance of the President, Secretary of State and the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire had sucked him away from his family and he was pulling long hours as they searched their net far-and-wide for answers. Their plants on the Maquis control base had told them about Nayib's travel plans which had coalesced in the capture of not only Beyvahl's brother but the return of his son. The news that Nayib's travel plans were cancelled pending a security review was disappointing. However, he was doing well. He had half of that family in prison. The other two would come soon enough.

The report that Maria of Dorvan V had disappeared was disturbing but not unexpected. After all, they had taken her son. Feelers were out to find her and the daughters. Word had it recalcitrant Klingons were part of that scenario.

He had fended off inquiries from the Vulcan government for the location of Sek. That would never be divulged if he could do anything about it. Once in that prison, never out. Too much would be disclosed otherwise. He turned the corner, heading for the conference room for more meetings. He decided that the whore they employed, a strange exotic alien named Oola would have to be used more effectively. She would have to shake her shapely ass and get more information, especially anything pertaining to the missing officials. The reported ties she had with the outlaw, Chakotay was good news to hear. The news media would get on it if they didn't have answers soon.

He hated the media, the little yappy dogs.

Entering the room, he nodded to the two admirals with more rank, the Federation Vice President and two other high-ranking officials helping them on this crisis management team. "Morning, gentlemen, ladies."

They greeted him back and he began his briefing on news from the gutters, high up penthouses and other places where the Federation employed listeners. It would be another long, long day of seeking, bribing and armtwisting.

**********At Maquis HQ...

Reg Barclay sat at his workstation formatting software for downloading and considered his situation. This was the most exciting work he had ever been a part of. It was almost like a game, the intensity and esprit de corps something he had always been drawn too in his own ass backwards and totally doofus way.

Chakotay had been wonderful, meeting the man he had come to love and often played catch with a dream come true. When Tom Riker had come to him and offered him a way to the real Voyager he had jumped at the chance. He would be a help to them and he would be with his emotional family, the crew of Voyager. It was all he could do to rest in between intense bouts of work and concentration.

They wanted to send large packages of information to the Federation, piggybacked and unknown of course and he would do his best to find a way. He knew about arrays, having worked with nearly all of them in the Alpha Quadrant and the big Hirogen array in the Delta. He would find a way and they would be that much ahead. His beloved Voyager, now called Crazy Horse would once more be what he knew she was, a great lady with a great crew. Of course, it would take come getting used to calling her

Crazy Horse but it was a small price to pay to be home at last.

**********In another place nearby...

Tabor slept late, Nayib working at the desk in his apartment. He had routed things there now that he had a reason to want a home and privacy. Here was their home for as long as it lasted and he would retire to it from time to time and try to have a fragment of a real life. Things were spinning along he thought, Riker and Barclay working wonderfully into the overall plan of mayhem and disruption that they were carrying out against the Federation. Tom had been located and Riker would have him picked up when the moment was right. His mother was safe having reached the safe house over the line into Klingon space and Chakotay was ready to go out and blow up a huge refinery that supplied a lot of fuel for the sector.

All was right in the world.

He sighed and sipped his coffee, lifting his gaze to the doorway of the bedroom. Tabor lay on the bed naked and asleep. His eyes caressed the smooth curve of Tabor's back and the well-savored rounded ass that peeked out from under the blankets that half hung onto the floor. They had slept together every night since Chakotay had fallen on his sword and Nayib had expended at least six years of sexual energy into the slim body of this quiet Bajoran in the duration. They also talked and laughed, his own ebullient spirit complimented well with the quiet but funny and insightful Bajoran.

He was in love he decided and he could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. He snorted and dropped his stylus, rising and stretching. Walking to the doorway, he leaned against it noting the figure lying obliviously before him. He was very handsome, lots of thick black hair and an ass to die for. God knows he had expended more than one 'little death' into it over the past week. He sighed, wondering how Chakotay was. The work was overwhelming, waiting for some overture to come through the many channels that the Federation knew were open. Until then they would harass, explode and generally be themselves.

Tabor sighed and rolled over, his body well displayed. His eyes fluttered open, blinking, then meeting Nayib's. He smiled. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. Sleep good?"

"Um-hmm."

"Fine. Now get up. Time's a wasting."

Tabor chuckled and yawned. "Yes, master."

Nayib grinned broadly and leaned down, kissing Tabor on the mouth. "You got that part right, baby. Hop up before I do something we both won't regret."

Tabor snorted and sat up rubbing his chest with his hand, his hair spilling over his eyes. Nayib sighed and turned, walking back into the living room. Sitting at his desk, he sighed again watching as Tabor's naked butt disappeared into the bathroom.

/... Damn ... get busy, Nubby boy, while there's still blood in your head .../

With a sigh, he turned to his work once more.

**********Liberty and Crazy Horse...

They stood out, heading for a planet that was behind enemy lines. It was a refinery and storage facility for Federation ships to refuel. There would be ships there but it was determined that it was not as heavily guarded as one would think considering its importance since it was well into the Federation side of the DMZ. Of course, their intelligence was now out of date since the Federation went on red alert. Heightened security would have to be dealt with.

Tuvok sat at his command seat formulating the type of attack formations they would have to use to disable any ships that might try to defend the refineries and the type of bombing runs they would have to make to take out the processing, refining and storage apparatus. They would hit the big holding facilities, setting off a chain reaction that would blow it all up. What would be tricky was allowing the fifteen minutes minimum that would let all the people there evacuate. Of course, they also had to destroy the arrays that fed communications to this area and any ships that might be in the vicinity.

It would all be worked out and when they made their first reconn pass around the facility, they would divide the chores between ships. It would be doable even if it would be difficult. Tuvok felt the rush flow through him as heconsidered the next task at hand.

**********Four hours later...

They flew past the amplifier array that was the main communications facilitator of the sector. Planting a limpet mine on her, a dampening field preventing detection, they moved on, fifteen minutes away from the planet and her myriad problems. They hove into sight of her, noting the freighter activity. There were small cruisers and a fighter base on the planet below. It would be easier to split up, they decided over encrypted comm links. Tuvok would split off and take out the fighter base, first hitting the fuel and ammo dumps and then the hardened bunkers, cloaking devices making detection impossible.

Chakotay would take out the cruisers that were moving in a leisurely pattern around the planet. He would disable their weapons and communications arrays. If they ran, and their propulsion units would be target two, they would not be able to warn anyone. Chakotay's job would be to send the evacuation message to the planet below and then target different buildings to ensure compliance.

They would hope for everyone obeying as neither man had any stomach for killing people that were noncombatants. As they moved together finalizing their attack plans, a limpet mine went off several thousand kilometers behind them and the planet and all her people were now blind, deaf, totally, utterly alone.

**********On the planet below...

He saw it blow up as a streak of light came from nowhere. He sensed something big pass over his head and he ran back, ducking behind a pile of lumber. A rock quarry exploded, pieces of marble and granite flying over his head and he heard the sound of people running and screaming as they fled. As he crouched, more shots hit and he could hear the sirens as they rose into the morning air. They were being told to leave the plant. Something was attacking them and they had to hurry. If the plant blew up none of them would survive. He rose and joined the crowd that fled the area. Streaming ahead of them thousands of people ran, rode and hustled along, heading for the safety of the demarcation line that was the beginning of the safe ring that signaled the limits of a blast zone.

It had been established through endless safety drills and the multitudes ran as fast as they could toward the red markers ahead that told them they would not be in the blast zone when the plant behind them blew. They hurried and ran desperately to make safety as behind them explosions rocked the very ground they ran over.

**********At the fighter base...

They raked the ground, ammo dumps flaring up. It was early and the crews that manned the flights were still in their barracks. The sirens went off and people fled for the bunkers. Nearby at the airfield, shielded ships exploded underground, the rattling booms rocking people off their feet. No one could see the enemy but they could see beams appear out of nowhere. Phaser fire was wracking them, destroying their ability to fight back and they hurried to safety running as fast as they could go. As they ran many of them thanked god that their families and all noncombatants were evacuated the week before.

**********Crazy Horse...

He had issued the command, sending warning that they had fifteen minutes to evacuate the facility. As people poured out he commanded his tactical and ops officers to monitor the rush. No one could be left behind when he sent phaser fire into the targeted areas. Around them, flying in erratic patterns damaged ships vented plasma and fire. Evacuation pods bloomed on their surfaces like flowers and as each ship was cleared he put a bolt of energy into its reeling carcass, sending it into oblivion in a blaze of fire.

The minutes crawled and still they filed out, half the facility cleared of sentient life. Around them freighters fled, small shuttles and life pods flying with zeal toward the place where the base used to be unaware that another cloaked ship was reducing it to rubble. Fifteen minutes passed and they made their scans. Only three people remained limping away as fast as they could. "Harry, transport those people to the safe zone," Chakotay commanded, waiting until the red marks that showed their position disappeared from the screen. When they were gone he glanced at Harry.

"They're gone. I'm reading all clear."

Chakotay nodded and turned to his tactical officer. "Ken, put the fire into the targeting computer. Set it to fire as ordered."

"Aye, Captain," he said moving across the board to comply. As he did the ship lurched, fire flashing out and down to the planet below. The explosions were colossal rocking the ground and rising into the sky. The fireball that went up breached into the upper atmosphere and they could see it flaring on their viewscreen.

"Raven to First one."

"First One."

"Targets accomplished. Leave off?"

"Affirmative. Leave off. First One out."

He stared at the screen and then sighed deeply.

/... In for a penny, in for a pound .../

"Take us out of here, Rick."

Batehart snapped out of his reverie and nodded, his fingers flying across the screen. In seconds they were gone and below Hell flourished. It would be over half a day beforeEnterprise arrived to offer aid and protection.

=0=

Book Fourteen: Nuclear Winter 3/4

=0=

He sat at his desk, sucking down Chinese noodles and staring at the news feed going across his screen. There was very little activity going on in the political arena of the Federation today he thought. The Federation President, Secretary of State and the Ambassador to Klingon were at Khitomer talking to the Klingon leadership in the annual confab with the higher ups. Nothing there. The news feed would be held up until they were back anyway due to the 'Maquis Menace'.

He sighed again frustrated that he wasn't involved in the war reporting. Although even if he was, it would be a circumscribed life. News from the DMZ was short, censored and managed. Nothing was there for a man to do with that sort of restriction in place. He would have to be satisfied with being a political man on staff at FNN, the Federation News Network, the biggest 'all news, all the time' network in the Alpha Quadrant. After all, it *was* a plum assignment and he had a ways to go to get seniority no matter what his prior experience was. He sighed and finished his meal, tossing his take-out containers into the trash. With a sense of boredom unparalleled, Jake Sisko went back to work.

**********Enterprise...

Picard sat at the helm, watching the great refinery go up in flames. It was clear to him that they were all in danger and he was glad that he had evacuated his noncombatants earlier. This menace was unseen and he knew that if they wished it they could destroy him. They might even be here, still waiting to push the buttons even now. He pushed that thought from his mind and stared at the screen, the bright glow on the northern plain strong enough to be seen from standard orbit. This was a major

blow to Federation military prowess. This was the major fueling station for ships in this area. All of the materials they needed for warp flight and non-warp as well had just been vaporized. No one had seen it coming and no one could have stopped it. The fact that no one was seriously hurt due to the warning given fifteen minutes before the attack was small consolation.

He mused on his situation as Tom Riker sat beside him, watching him and the screen with interest. Picard was flummoxed, uncertain how to proceed. They would turn and look for sign once the relief was met with other ships but by then it would be too late. Chakotay and Tuvok would be long gone and what minuscule sign there was would be long dissipated. He could almost smile. "What do you want to do, Captain?" he asked, his face the picture of concern.

"Once the relief ships are here, we hunt."

"Their trail will likely be gone," Riker offered, noting the frustration in Picard's patrician visage.

"We have to look anyway. For all I know they could be sitting right next to us and we would never know."

"How is the work coming on detection equipment?"

"Not well," Picard admitted. "I want you to personally take control of that project. It's your number one job at the moment, Will. We have to be able to detect them."

Tom nodded, rising slowly. "I'll go and see what's happening on the project."

Picard nodded and turned back to watch. It would take three days for the blaze to come under control and when it was finally put out two weeks later, the installation would be a total loss. In the midst of the disaster there would be only one bit of good news. There would not be a single life lost.

**********In the lab...

Tom Riker watched as they worked through different protocols designed to find the Crazy Horse and Liberty, formerly Voyager and Sorrel Bay. He, being intimately familiar with the devices and technology that created the enhanced cloaking devices, was well aware that they would not find an answer going the way they were. However, he encouraged them to follow that path and made up his mind to discourage any attempts to move toward more positive research avenues. This work would tie up the lab forever he thought as he stepped out into the corridor again.

He thought about Chakotay and Tuvok and a small part of him wanted to be with them, exacting penalties against the enemy. However, a bigger and more vocal part of him was glad to be here home on Enterprise, a place he missed more than he had imagined. Even though he and Will had diverged, becoming two distinct personages through different paths taken since their splitting, he was still imbued with a sense of place for Enterprise and the life that could never be his.

Until now.

Of course, he would also never know that the Vedek's conditioning had been especially profitable in him due to his grievances and that his determination was amplified by conditioning received in a refugee camp after the liberation of his prison. He just remembered that the Maquis were his people and he was with them. The rest was a borrowed moment, useful to achieving the ends at hand and restful to the restless part of his heart that never forgot how much he loved his old life. He stepped into the lift and called for his deck. The door closed and he disappeared from view, heading for lunch with his ensign and a night filled with work on the surface of the planet below.

**********Liberty and Crazy Horse...

They held off nearby, monitoring the mayhem on the planet below. They had been gratified to hear that the casualty list was restricted to minor burns and the odd accident. No one was killed and the objective was completed. It was a very successful mission had ordered them to hang back, watching as relief arrived in the form of tankers, hospital ships and battle ships. They counted them and registered them in their database, running discreet scans on their lowest band frequencies. When it was clear that there would be no more coming and they had recorded as much traffic as they dared -both open band and encrypted- they turned and slipped away.

Enterprise hung like a jewel flying in orbit around the planet offering protection against their unseen attackers. Chakotay watched her, remembering how Picard had been involved in the negotiations that gave his planet so-called immunity against the Cardassian aggression that had caused the Federation to demand their evacuation.

They had refused and in the end a plan was devised to let them stay while both sides left them alone. Picard had signed it believing Chakotay was sure that the plan would hold. It didn't of course. The Cardassians began to prey on his planet and his people and in the end the Maquis rose up from the violence to meet Cardassian aggression and Federation indifference with violence of their own.

It was out of this mix that his father had become a leader and it was out of this mix that he had been led to believe that his father was murdered. The idea of his father, his beautiful, smart, strong, tough father being murdered was overwhelming and he seldom indulged in thinking about the times he had believed Kolopak dead. A piercing pain pitched through him at times like that and it did now cutting through him like a serrated blade.

He sighed deeply, glancing at the screen. His father wasn't dead. He was a prisoner, the Federation had lied and it all began with Picard and Enterprise. It all began with them.

"What now, Captain?" Harry asked.

"We go, Harry," Chakotay replied. "Signal Liberty. We're leaving."

"Done," Harry said, nodding to Rick. The pilot glanced at Chakotay and Chakotay nodded. Turning, Rick Batehart edged them away, flying subspace until the distance between them and the planet would allow for maximum particle dispersal in their wake. When they were in the safe zone, he jumped them to warp and they headed off together toward home at warp eight.

Sitting at his seat, watching his team flying home with

precision, Chakotay considered once again evening the score with Picard. Some day he thought some day it would happen and then he would exorcise that demon forever.

It would be three hours before they hit the DMZ and an hour and a half before they cleared it. By then they would be gone and Enterprise would still be flying in circles trying to find them. Tom Riker would have the conn while they did and when it was over they would be no closer to a solution to their problem than they were the day before.

**********At port...

They pulled in, met by the usual squadron of fighters and slipped into their berths. Tuvok joined Chakotay as they went below to have dinner with Nayib and Tabor and discuss the success of their mission. Harry Kim waited at the lift for Rick Batehart and Freddy Bristow, going to a cafe in town for dinner. The three 'Fleet men had stayed with the Maquis, preferring their chances with friends rather than return to an unknown future and since it had proven to be a smart move they had spent a lot of time together.

The Holodoc, buoyed with his collegial partnership with Liberty's doctor, Julian Bashir, had branched out and spent a lot of his spare time working on refugee ships, helping people with sicknesses or wounds brought along with them as they fled the war.

Kira Nerys had struck up friendships with Maquis Bajorans and spent time with them, joining Julian and Miles for dinner from time to time to keep up the old ties. She was Tactical Officer of Liberty and as a result had become responsible for as much of the destruction they had raised as anyone. The die had been cast for her and she was in for the duration although in the back of her mind she didn't believe it would lead to anything other than an early grave.

Miles and Julian spent as much time together as a Chief Engineer's job would allow in their situation but the time they did spend was spent in conversation, games of chance and exploring the planet below. Miles impatience with Julian was tempered by the magnitude of the changes he had proposed and so he waited with ill-concealed anxiety for Julian's decision.

They beamed down together, heading for their favorite cafe. As they walked together along the crowded street, they didn't notice the tall woman that watched their transporter as it disgorged load after load of passengers. Oola sighed as she waited, looking at each shipment of travelers for the one that she was supposed to be in love with. Chakotay wasn't among them, she being unaware that he had come down earlier. She watched and waited until she felt a hand on her arm. Turning her gaze, she met the eyes of one of her Federation handlers. "Hi. Open for business?"

"I'm waiting for someone," she replied, noting the grim look on her handler's face.

"See him later. We need to talk."

She looked at the next group of people that walked out and sighed. Turning, she nodded and then followed him to the car that inevitably awaited. Entering, she noted that there was a new face among them and she wondered what that person wanted. They pulled out and drove off in their usual random pattern, unaware that the Maquis following them were holding back, waiting for them to arrive at their destination. Oola's implant allowed them total latitude in this matter. "Well? Are you going to introduce me?" she asked.

Her two familiar handlers smiled and glanced at the new man. "This is Derek. He's here to discuss with you a matter of extreme importance."

She turned her face and looked at him, sizing him up. Straight, single, totally job oriented, humorless and probably not a whole lot of fun in the sack. In short, he was a bureaucratic automatum and her favorite mark. If she could thaw his balls then she could do anyone. It never hurt a girl to have a challenge once in a while. She smiled and offered her hand. "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure."

He looked at her and then her hand. "I'm here on serious business."

She leaned back, a coquettish smile on her face. "They all say that."

He swallowed and looked at the other men who smiled back at him.

"Didn't I tell you she's a work of art?" one of them said to the plainly discomforted Derek.

Oola nearly purred as she stared at Derek's crotch. "Of course I am. Maybe if you're a very good boy, I'll show you what I can do with ... cherry stems."

It was a very short and very steamy ride to the safe house and the talk.

**********Later that night...

He waited in the alley standing in the darkness as he waited for her to come to him. He wasn't cold but he shivered nevertheless. They would kill him if they knew he was here. The sound of footsteps echoed in the darkness and he waited tensely until he could see her. She stopped and smiled at him, noting his tension. Putting her fingers to her lips, she motioned him to silence and then she stepped into the shadows with him. It would be the same as it was before. She would have sex with him, leaning against the wall like some low class hooker. However, there was a method to her madness and this schmuck was her insurance. Her mother didn't raise any dummies and Oola had cultivated this dumb kid's infatuation in her carefully. You never knew when you might need someone to do something suicidal for you and if putting out a little bit gave you that sense of security then it was a small price to pay.

She raised her leg and pulled him close, feeling him enter her and begin his usually frenetic humping. She would have to teach him some new moves if this was going to be a longer term relationship than she hoped. Frantic humping against an alley wall was getting to be old. Of course, since she couldn't talk or take him some place else this would have to do. She endured it and then kissed him goodbye, leaving him satisfied and adoring. He was hers to wield and if she needed to leave in a hurry, he was someone to kill the two Maquis that had just gotten another fill of her professional delivery.

It was a backup system she knew but she was ready to use it if necessary and things had just gotten a little hotter today than she cared to be around. Walking away into the night, she hurried home to clean up and be ready for her real date of the evening, faux thing that it would probably be. She would primp and be pretty and probably nothing would happen. This Chakotay was one tough bird she thought as she stepped into the street beyond.

=0=

Book Fourteen: Nuclear Winter 4/4

=0=

"You look tired."

Chakotay smiled slightly. "I am."

"Busy day?"

"You can say that."

They walked along the street, having just left their usual cafe and wove their way among the crowds that filled the street, celebrating the victory. People congratulated him and Oola enjoyed their attentions smiling at Chakotay's self-effacing manner. This man was interesting she thought, virile and strong. People respected him and she enjoyed being with him. Now, she considered, if I can only get him into bed... "Dinner was nice but I must teach you something about wine. Expensive doesn't equal good."

Chakotay grinned. "My people have an historic antipathy against alcohol."

"Mine like it. My people like a lot of things."

"I can imagine."

"Can you?" she asked peering up at him, a pretty expression on her face.

Chakotay smiled and they continued, himself feeling strangely buoyed by the alien's company. She was good company, sassy and funny like Tom. He sighed and pushed the picture of his lover from his mind.

"That man, the one you keep mourning over, you just thought about him didn't you."

"Maybe," Chakotay said noncommittally.

"You're a terrible liar," she replied, eyeing him critically.

"You're very handsome. I would love to take you into my arms and make you forget about things for a little while."

"For a little while," he whispered remembering Tom's comment in his logs. "I don't think I can do that. I ended a relationship because he's always there, just at the edge of things and I can't go on with anyone else."

Oola considered that. "My people find thoughts like that very alien. We don't make longterm liaisons. We make bonds for breeding, we make bonds for fun and for love but we move on, taking many lovers over the course of our lives. I would think that given the level of your sorrow, you would benefit from our way rather than your own."

Chakotay looked at her, his dark eyes filled with emotion. "If I had never met him, I would never, ever know joy."

She looked at him, at his serious expression and sighed. "I like you. You're a fool but being a fool for love I can forgive you. Come up with me and let me soothe your soul."

They continued and soon they were at her street. He looked at her house and sighed, following her into the building and down the hallway to her apartment. They entered and she turned gesturing for him to sit on the couch. She watched him noting his sureness and masculinity. It pleased her feminine side and her masculine side found empathy with him.

She pulled her long gloves off laying them over a nearby chair. She pulled the pins from her hair and it fell in thick cascades around her pale shoulders and down to her waist. She shook her head and it waved around her, long and sensuous, russet colored and silken. She moved closer kicking her heels off daintily. Parting the skirt of her long red dress she knelt at his feet and reached for his foot.

He watched her entranced by her intensity and her beauty. She was unusual and sensual, something utterly desirable. She knelt and he felt his heart speed up, anticipating whatever was to come. She removed his shoe and began to rub his foot, the soothing sensations almost painful in the pleasure they stimulated in him. He leaned back his head and closed his eyes, sighing deeply as she expertly worked.

"You're an interesting man, Chakotay. A man like you should have many women. Or men. You should share yourself with as many people as you can find."

"We don't work that way. It isn't in our make up to do that."

"Some of you are very promiscuous. Some of you have many liaisons."

"Some of us are that way but it isn't the way most of us are. We need the intimacy of one person."

"This one, this man, you miss him."

Chakotay was quiet for a long time and then he nodded. "I do."

She sighed and reached for his other foot. "In a moment I will draw a bath. I want you to join me. When you're done I will rub your back and hold you. You can sleep with me and when morning comes, you can go."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, meeting her direct gaze.

"If you need an excuse, remember the Maquis," she said a slight smile crossing her face.

He looked at her and nodded, laying his head back, his eyes closing once more. He was too tired to argue and he didn't want to be alone. He would stay.

**********On a hillside in San Francisco...

They sat on the rock their special glasses in hand as they took turns casing the Briars. They had a plan worked out, one that would get Tom Paris out. They would do it at night, posing as ambulance workers. They would come in and take him out, having already figured out how to beat the security system. The trunk line that fed the comm system could be disrupted and they would have exactly eight minutes before the emergency routing system would get it all back on line.

He smiled, considering the precision that would be involved. However, this was up his alley. He was Tom Riker's head of security and his entire job description involved designing and beating all kinds, types and formats of devices that were supposed to keep him out. It was the most fun he ever had and he was incredibly good at it.

He turned to his partner and reached for his glasses. He looked at the Briars and saw a lone figure sitting in the sun. It was the mark, the one Riker said to take. He was tall and slim, blond and blue. Tom Paris, son of Owen, pilot of Voyager, inmate of Auckland, patient at The Briars. It was tailor made for him. In a couple of days, Tom Paris would be hidden on a freighter heading for the frontier. The network would pick him up and take him over the DMZ. What happened then was anyone's guess. It was also someone else's problem. He would be on to the next one himself the next day.

**********Early morning, Maquis HQ...

Reg Barclay smiled and waited, the men arrayed before him checking the padd he had given them. They could now encrypt, piggyback and send undetected large amounts of information into the Federation over arrays, relays, nets, and other systems to anyone they chose. It had finally all gelled. Nayib looked up and grinned, a mirror image of his brother. Reg smiled at that, at the familiarity of the visage and waited. "This is great, Reg. You did good work."

Reg sagged with relief as he took the praise in his usual awkward way. His hands, twisting and turning the padd he held gripped together tightly. "Thank you, sir. I'm just so happy to be of help."

Nayib grinned. "You're more than help. You saved my family. I want you to know that this means something to me. Your work on this project is amazing. When can we start sending?"

"Anytime."

"Good. I want you to work with the R and D team that's putting together packages to send to news organizations in the Federations. I want to also have the ability to send viruses to disrupt specifically targeted computer systems."

Reg nodded and grinned. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Mr. Barclay. Thank you."

Reg grinned almost painfully and nodded, looking at each before he turned and left the room. Tabor grinned at Nayib. "He's amazingly smart isn't he?"

"He is. He's a good man. Tense, but good," Nayib replied as the door opened and Chakotay entered. Nayib grinned. "Well, the son also rises."

"How literate of you," Chakotay replied, taking a cup of coffee from the replicator.

"Where were you?" Nayib asked curiously. "I called Crazy Horse and you didn't come home all night."

"I stayed over with Oola."

"Ah," Nayib said, grinning as he made eyes at Tabor. "What a babe. So tell me-"

"There's nothing to tell. She gave me a back rub, listened to my sad story and let me sleep over."

"Oh."

"After a bath in the tub."

"Ah."

"Together."

Nayib looked at Chakotay and grinned. "You almost had me going but you didn't fuck her did you."

"Nope," Chakotay said, sitting and propping his feet up on Nayib's desk.

"Man cannot live on air alone."

"Don't you mean bread?" Chakotay asked helpfully.

"Don't confuse me with logic," Nayib said, tossing him the padd that Reg had given him.

Chakotay read it and nodded. "This is good news."

"Enterprise wants your balls," Nayib said picking up the news padd. "The encrypted cables all talk about mounting your genitals in the entry way of Star Fleet Academy along with the hockey sticks and tennis trophies."

"They can't have them. They're reserved for someone else."

Tabor grinned. "I'm going to get some air. If you two want to keep talking dirty, wait until I leave the room."

"That's what you get for being a pedophile, Nayib. It cuts down the conversational possibilities."

"Well, that's all right as long as the nookie keeps coming." They all groaned at that one and Tabor left, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

"He's a good kid," Chakotay said, glancing at his brother.

"He's my dream man. I'm going to make an honest man of him when this shit is over. I want him to have my baby."

Chakotay snorted. "Your baby... that's a new one. You never wanted kids."

"I never wanted to command the Maquis either."

"You're doing a damned fine job of it, babe," Chakotay replied, raising his cup in salute.

"I am, aren't I?" Nayib agreed, propping his feet up. "I want to send Janeway back to the Federation in a shuttle with a message. I want a meet and negotiations for the Prez and his gang of shit heels."

Chakotay nodded, grinning for a moment. "You really want to unload Janeway? You don't want to keep her for later exchanges or something? You can send LeForge. He's a good man. He'll do it right."

"Janeway deserves the humiliation. She's such a pollyanna. Where the hell did she think that they would trust her when they didn't trust anyone else? How many houses have to fall on her little head before she realizes this ain't Kansas anymore?"

"She's old school. She's been forged in the shit in the Delta."

"That sounds like a boxing match."

"It was, Nub. We're all different. I thought I was over the fighting and killing and here I am, fighting and killing. It's never going to end, not really, is it?"

"I don't know, Chakotay. I just know this is the hand we've been dealt. We could end it but what then? Do you really think they'll ever lift martial law? That they'll ever hold hearings and let anyone *see* what they've allowed to happen out here? For the Federation the war is over. For us, it's like fucking reconstruction after the Civil War. They won't let it go until we make it so expensive that they have to."

"I know," Chakotay said, sighing. "I know."

They sat together a moment and then Nayib put his cup down. "We don't laugh much do we."

"Not really. I just want you to know, Nayib, I'm glad for your company. Whatever you decide we'll do it. I think you're doing a damned good job. Papa and Bey would be proud of you."

Nayib felt tears rise and he quelled them. "Yeah, well, we have to get them out of the slammer first before they can hug me."

"And Tom."

"And the 'Fleet crew."

"And Sek."

"And the others from the Revolutionary Council."

There was a pause and Chakotay grinned slightly. "I'm sure there are more to be named later."

"Probably," Nayib said chuckling. "As long as they aren't named Nayib or Chakotay."

Chakotay snorted and looked at his brother with great fondness. "Yeah. That's without saying."

**********That night...

She walked down the hallway, moving with an almost impossible grace as she was led to the inner sanctum by her guards. She was rapier thin, honed by months of relentless exercise and her long hair was shorn, cut by her own hand to make life easier. She was petite but whipcord taut, her pixie face filled with a toughness that had not been there since before the return.

She stepped into the office and saw them, standing quietly until they gestured to a seat. "Sit."

She moved and sat, refusing to acknowledge Tuvok or Chakotay. Nayib tossed her a padd. "We want you to take that to your bosses. We want them to understand that we don't say what we don't mean."

She didn't look at it, fixing her gaze on the big man's face.

"What if I don't take it?" she asked, her low voice hard with steel.

"Then you're worthless to us and we'll take you out and hang you now."

She kept his gaze and then looked at the padd. It was addressed to the Vice President of the Federation. The big man rose and picked up a box. He turned and held it up. "We want you to understand that we mean business. In this box is the right hand of the President of the United Federation of Planets. We want you to give it to them as a token of our unwavering determination."

She swallowed hard and looked at him with hard cold eyes. It was true, she thought, the rumor that they had been taken.

"You will go now and be taken to a shuttle. A fighter escort will fly you out. You will be blindfolded and another will fly the first leg. When you're through the minefield, the pilot who took you through will beam back to the fighter squadron and you will be allowed to fly on unescorted. We have plotted a course on the nav computer that should allow you to rendezvous with Enterprise. Tell them what you have and have them send you on. It's in your hands. Of course if it takes more body parts we can arrange that too."

She stared at him and rose, her eyes glacial and her manner ramrod stiff. Nayib nodded to the guards and they turned, allowing her to move out, padd and box in hand. She left and they all relaxed, turning to Nayib.

"I don't want to ask ..." Chakotay began.

"It's not his hand. We took it off a cadaver and manipulated the DNA. No one will know. It's been done that well. Just relax. We're not totally around the bend here. Yet."

"If it came to it ...?" Tuvok asked.

"Then we'd do it wouldn't we," Nayib replied the specter of it hanging in the air among them.

"I need a drink," Chakotay said sighing deeply. Nayib nodded in sympathy.

"Count me in too," Tuvok said pulling himself out of his reverie.

Chakotay looked at him and nodded, turning to the replicator. As they did, a shuttle rose from the ground and with a fighter escort began to make its way back to the Federation and the business of war that lay all around it.

=0=


	15. Chapter 15

=0=

Book Fifteen: Nuclear Winter 1/4

=0=

It was dark when they came, climbing up the most unprotected slope of the installation. They scaled the cliffside moving silently toward the target above them. The sky was pitch black, the moon hidden behind clouds and the sound of the swells below covered any small mistakes they might have made. Plans were in place and they were ready to move, capturing and moving their mark out of confinement and onto his way.

They had the right gear, the right attitude and all the right people in place to facilitate him off the planet. All they needed to do was get him out of The Briars. Reaching the top, they scanned the area, the night monitors registering on their tricorders. Once located, they would be able to avoid them, moving carefully to the dark building beyond. All it took was patience and stealth.

*****Nearby...

Tom stood at the window, seeking a glimpse of the moon that should be there. It had been there for the past three days and he had watched it until it disappeared. People lived on it, thousands of people, millions of people and he wondered if there was someone in a nut house up there standing at the window and watching the Earth as they waited for the next day to come.

He sighed and looked at the grounds below, at the hedges that lined the stone fence and the trees that blocked part of his view. The shadows that illuminated things usually weren't there but for a moment, he could have sworn that he saw something move outside. He stared at the grounds, watching for it to happen again and it didn't, disappointing him.

The routine had begun to get to him, the endless quiet of the place after the endless anxiety and noise of the Delta Quadrant and Maquis land becoming almost an itch on his skin, one he couldn't scratch no matter how hard he tried. He turned and looked around his room, the empty bed and the comfortable lounge chair. Books were piled on the floor next to it a gift from his family and very little else relieved the sterile blandness around him.

He sighed and walked to the chair, sitting and pulling his legs up. Laying back his head, he closed his eyes. It was harder and harder to remember the people that mattered the most. He was aware that this would happen. It happened in prison. Stress wipes out the memory, he thought, clearing away hope, love and friends in the slowly rising tide of sorrow and despair that confinement created in you. It took away joy. All of his time was spent in the pursuit of wellness, of getting his head clear about things that mattered. His parents came nearly every day, his mother never missing a day and they sat together, talking and generally feeling around for common ground.

Their distress preyed on him, the worry that filled their eyes when they were with him. It was harder on his mother when his father was there, easier when he wasn't. She wanted them to find their way back to each other and she made sure that the conversation kept moving. It was good to have her company. She was warmth and memories of the best part of his growing up. His father was another story. He couldn't really get a finger on him. His dad was quivering with anxiety he would tell. He himself was too. The two of them felt the compulsion to reach out but the path was strewn with pitfalls and old baggage.

It was silent in the room as he sat and then he heard a soft sound. Raising his head, he looked at the door as it slowly slid open. A dark figure entered and raised his finger to his lips. Tom nodded, watching as he walked over and knelt. The stranger took hold of his foot and held a small device against the ankle bracelet that was fastened there. Tom watched as the two devices flashed and then both of them winked off. He looked at the man in front of him and watched as he rose.

"Come," the figure whispered and Tom rose without hesitation.

They walked to the door and paused looking both ways. Then the shadowy figure motioned for him to follow. Tom turned and slipped out, padding down the hallway to the exit door beyond. A noise caught their attention and they froze, pressing against the wall. A door opened and closed and then it was quiet again. The figure turned and patted his chest, pointing in the direction they would go. Tom nodded and they turned slipping into the door and walking down three flights of stairs. They paused at the bottom waiting for something and when a flash across the way flickered, the shadow tapped him. "Watch where I go. Follow exactly."

Tom nodded and watched as the shadow moved away. He walked along the path and then stepped off, moving toward the wall. Tom looked around and then moved out, walking toward the wall in precisely the same way. Halfway there a horn sounded and he froze, looking around wildly. He looked down at his ankle, stunned that the light that signaled that it was working was blinking wildly. The shadow had frozen and then the lights began to come on. He stood a moment longer and then leaped, clambering over the wall. Tom, startled at last ran for the wall just as doors in the building began to open.

He reached it just as the security guards did and they grabbed him, hauling him back into the yard. Beyond him, scrambling for the boat that would take them away two shadows moved with speed and skill. In seconds, they would be gone and in seconds, Tom Paris would be back in his room fighting with his captors as they sedated him and fastened him down with restraints.

**********Later...

Owen Paris paced in the hallway upset being a mild word for the tension that gripped him. Tom had tried to escape. He had help. It could only be the Maquis. Being here, he had no contact with anyone and the staff had been heavily vetted. He paused and felt chilled. What would this mean to his parole? What would it mean that he had tried to get away? He considered the possibilities and among them was the possibility that he could lose custodial care of his son.

That wouldn't do, he thought. He would never allow his son to go to prison again. Never. With gathering resolve he turned and watched as the administrator came through the door.

"Admiral."

"Doctor James."

"Your son is sedated and restrained. He was very violent and we did this to make sure that he wasn't injured nor that he injured anyone else."

Owen sighed and nodded. "Does this hurt his progress?"

"It's hard to know at this moment. What worries me the most is, who were the people that came here to break him out?"

Owen nodded and sighed. "You and me both. Let me have what you have and I'll get on it."

James handed the padd in his hand and nodded. "Good. We don't care for this kind of thing, Admiral. I would be worried if we had to protect against this sort of thing now."

"Consider it a done deal," he said grimly.

**********Roswell, New Mexico...

He was taken down the hallway moving between two big and silent guards. It had been the first time since he had been brought here, never before being a problem in the population. People watched him pass going about their business. They knew who he was, his importance to their cause and they were curious but no one said a word. It was oddly silent as he passed. Entering an office, they motioned him to sit and he did, relaxing in a chair as he pondered what they could want. He was the focal point of this place, the moral center and everything that happened here in the inmate population happened because he said so.

Or not.

A door opened and the warden looked out, nodding. The guards motioned him to stand and he did, walking to the door where he paused, noting people inside that he had never seen before. The warden motioned to a chair and he hesitated before taking it, relaxing his body even as his expression betrayed nothing. He waited. They stared at him, measuring him with their eyes and then an older man rose and walked toward him, perching on the Warden's big desk. "You don't know me."

Kolopak shrugged. "Am I supposed to?"

"No. But you will," he said, considering his words. "I'm the Vice President of the United Federation of Planets. I have some important things to say and I want you to listen very, very carefully."

Nothing of his emotions were portrayed on his face as Kolopak sat listening. He said nothing. He asked no questions. When the Vice President was through, he waited.

"You have nothing to say?"

Kolopak shrugged, his expression neutral.

"Well, I suggest you go and think on it. We leave tomorrow." They stared at each other and then the warden moved, touching Kolopak's shoulder with his hand. The older man rose, dignity personified and turned walking with calm from the room and all of the people who watched him go. The door closed and the warden turned to the Vice President. "Do you think he'll cooperate?" he asked, the Vice President's words rumbling through him and deeply unsettling him.

"If he loves his son and wants him to stay alive, he'll cooperate. Two can play hardball as well as one, Warden," he said staring at the door with cold eyes. The warden merely stared at him, disquiet filling every corner of his body.

**********Star Fleet Command...

He sat at his desk, the Vice President's instructions ringing in his ears. It tore him to pieces to consider even complying but he had no choice. Tom would go to Roswell and join the prison population there if they didn't do what they had in mind. Miriam had been beside herself, registering the same objections that filled him now. However, if they didn't comply Tom would be jailed and they would never see him again in all likelihood. He would rot in prison in the hot sun of New Mexico and the war would go on and on and on. He rose and walked to the window, staring at the plaza below.

People went about their business, prosaically living their lives, going home and to the theater and any place else they wanted to. They didn't worry about their children, about the things they were required to do in their daily work. It was left to him to pay the price of their ease. He turned and walked to his desk, picking up the picture of Tom that had graced that corner for all the years that he had been lost. He had hoped to exchange it for another, something more up to date than his son's Academy visage. He was a handsome boy Owen thought. No. He was a handsome man. Now he was caught in a spider's web of intrigue and he had to go along with it or lose him. He would lose his son if he didn't go along with the plan.

Go along. Had he ever done anything else? Hadn't he been a team player all his life? He had served with distinction and he had risen through the ranks. It had been costly and he had paid a heavy price. So had his family, his son most of all.

Tom.

Tom needed him now and he was caught in a vice that could not be broken. If he did this thing, if he complied, his son would not pay a price for his deeds. He would be contributing to the end of the war and his son would be a free man. No penalties or punishments and when the war ended he would walk. Owen rubbed his face and knew there was no other way for him to go. He would have to let this happen and pray as hard as he could that when it was over his son would understand. It was all he could do. There was no other way out for any of them. He turned and walked to his desk pressing the comm system. "Elaine, please send the head of Star Fleet Medical in. I want him to explain it to me once more."

**********Roswell, New Mexico...

They sat together, the sun filtered through the bamboo screen that covered the yard. It dappled on the ground throwing shadows and long beams of light here and there as the slight evening breeze ruffled the cover. He had talked to his son, telling him everything and they had sat together side-by-side silently digesting the news. Bey sighed and looked at his father slipping his arm around his shoulders. "You have a hard choice."

"I have no choice," Kolopak said sharply looking at his son with emotion. "There is no choice for me, son."

"You don't think they'll keep their word do you?" Bey asked rubbing his father's back.

"We can know with certainty that if I don't do it they will keep it."

Bey stared at the sky and then sighed loudly. "This is a witch's brew. This is the worst. They mean to get their way."

"If it means your life then they just might."

"They can't, Father. You know this is bigger than just you or me."

"I won't allow them to kill you," Kolopak said his voice soft with finality. "If I don't go to this meeting and make it end you will be executed under the new law."

It was silent for a moment and then Bey leaned close to his father, his voice soft as a whisper. "Go. Make contact. Turn it around. You have the cards to make it happen. Chakotay and Nayib will be there. Tuvok won't allow his son to be made a pawn in something like this. There are others in place too."

Kolopak stared at the ground for a long time. "I will go. I will see what happens. If we can do something, we will. If it means

you are in danger I will protect you. No cause, no matter how just is worth more to me than your life."

Bey regarded his father and nodded. "Good."

Kolopak gripped his son's hand and squeezed it hard. "You are my son, my first born. I promised you at your birth to be your father and protect you. A man isn't supposed to outlive his children. I will do what is in my power to make things happen. If I cannot I will not jeopardize your life."

"When do you go?" Bey asked squeezing his father's shoulders.

"Tomorrow. You will take my place here. Keep the discipline. Keep the morale. I will do my best."

"I will too, Father," Bey said softly.

"You always have, Beyvahl. That is why I love you so much." Bey swallowed hard and considered the Federation's words to his father. Kolopak was required to come to the meet with the Maquis leadership. He was to use his prestige and influence to get the hostages out and to persuade the Maquis to end their defiance. If he didn't agree Beyvahl would pay the ultimate price. He would be the first person executed under Federation law in 250 years. He would be taken to the infirmary and put to death by lethal injection.

They sat together lost in their own thoughts as the sun slowly sat in the distance. In a few hours the officials would come for him and Kolopak would go silently. Beyvahl would watch him, filled with anguish once more. Once more, his father would be taken away surrounded by the enemy and he would be able to do nothing at all about it.

**********At The Briars...

Tom lay on the biobed as they went through their inspection. He had been released from his restraints and walked down to the infirmary, placed on a bed and told to relax. As if that were possible. They scanned him and he lay silently, his eyes closed. The doctor turned and nodded, taking a hypo from a tray. She pressed it against his neck and he opened his eyes, surprised. It came to him all at once and he fell back into blessed sleep.

Two men stepped from the doorway, entering the room as the surgical team prepped. Owen stared at his son, anguish plain on his face. The other person, head of Star Fleet Medical put his hand on Owen's shoulder. "He won't know it was done, Owen. It's all for the best in the end."

Owen turned, staring at the doctor with fury. "Best? Since when has that been so for my son? Since when did *anyone* have his best interests in mind?"

It was silent a moment and then they began. A small incision was made, blood staunched quickly and a shining tiny metallic object was retrieved from the sterile case in which it was stored. The doctor held it out as a technician scanned it making sure that it worked. He nodded and the doctor turned moving it on tongs to the wound. It would take a few minutes to attach it to muscles. It would be tiny and undetectable, good for a year before dissolving into the body of the bearer.

It would signal where the wearer was at all times, good for

long distances and clear and steady in its signal. They would be able to track the bearer anywhere he would go. Owen watched as they wired his son and his stomach turned over. He felt the betrayal to the bottom of his soul and he felt for the first time deeply ashamed. When they closed the wound he walked over resting his hand on his son's cheek. Tears stung his eyes as he watched Tom sleeping and he felt fury mingled with frustration rise in him. They were meddling with his family, his son, his only son. He could do nothing about it. Nothing at all. He stood beside his son until they took him back to his room and when they did, Owen Paris left The Briars a changed man forever.

=0=

Book Fifteen: Nuclear Winter 2/4

=0=

They came for him and he left unable to say goodbye to his son and the others. Beyvahl, rising at the sound of people passing rushed to the barracks windows in time to see his father walk out toward the gate. "Father!" he yelled noting his father slow and turn toward him. They stared at each other for a moment, oceans of emotion passing between them and then a guard prodded Kolopak. He hesitated and then continued, walking away until Bey couldn't see him. He stared after his father, filled with anguish and as he stared Sek stood with him, his own inner turmoil concealed by years of training and conditioning. At this moment, standing with his friend Sek felt worse than he could ever remember.

**********The Briars...

Tom awoke, a slight stiff neck betraying his surgery. He rubbed it and sat up staring around his room. A lady arose from his chair walking over to stand next to his bed. "How are we feeling this morning?" she asked her voice just *that* much too cheery for Tom.

He scowled. "We? You can have the headache."

She grinned. "We have a session, Mr. Paris. Time to get up and get dressed. We can talk over breakfast on the veranda."

Tom stared at her and watched as she walked out of the room. His mouth felt dry, drier than he could remember and he rose stiffly walking to the replicator and calling up a glass of cold water. He finished it and put the cup down the recycler, moving to where his clothes were laid out. He picked them up, pulling them on. Turning, he brushed his hair and washed his face. Teeth could wait until after he ate.

He turned and walked to the door pressing the button for release. After a second, the door slid open and he stepped out facing the doctor who worked every day to know him. "Shall we?" she asked gesturing toward the doorway that would lead them outside. He followed her, searching his memory for what had happened over the past two days. He couldn't really remember, the jumble of thoughts passing through him like rain clouds over the desert. He sat at the table and watched as orderlies served his meal. It was tasty and normal, rather unlike the past two days and he began to eat ignoring his companion.

"You look tired, Tom. How do you feel?"

"Ask the doctors. They have all the answers."

"You aren't going to be difficult today are you?" she asked smiling in spite of herself.

"Difficult? Who, me?" he asked innocently his blue eyes lending an air of angelic sweetness to his baby-faced good looks.

"Do you remember what has happened over the past two days?"

He shrugged. "No, actually, I don't. I was hoping you'd tell me."

"Someone tried to break you out of here."

Tom paused and looked at her. "Who?"

"We were hoping you could tell us. Maquis sympathizers perhaps?"

"I wouldn't know. The only Maquis I know are elsewhere."

She stared at him, at his glib closed personality and decided to broach a touchy subject once more. "You were married. You're separated. How do you feel about that?"

He looked at her and grinned. "You'd love to know wouldn't you."

"I would. I'm here to help you. I'm not the enemy."

"You are. You want inside my mind. You want to know things I don't even tell myself. That's hardly the actions of a friend."

"You weren't happy with your marriage," she ventured again.

"How do you know?"

"You said that you were lovers with the man you were captured with. That hardly implies a happy marriage."

Tom sipped his orange juice, considering her angles, his position and Bey's vulnerability. "If you really wanted to help me you'd bring him here."

She looked at him and leaned forward. "I don't have that kind of authority."

"No one does do they," Tom replied sitting back and eying her. "No one has any authority yet things happen. No one can do anything but things get done. I have a hard time accepting the limitations that everyone says they have."

She grinned. "Tell me about this man, this Nayib."

Memories of Chakotay rushed in flooding his slightly throbbing head.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because ... it's clear to me that you love him."

Tom sighed. "So I guess that makes him fair game for your little questions. Just because I love him he's fair game."

"I'm not your enemy, Tom. I'm trying to help you. I am on your side."

"Get me out of here."

They stared at each other and then she sighed. "I can't and you know it."

"Then you're just like the rest of them. Box me, cage me, deny me, kill me. It's all the same. You make the rules and I have to obey them. You call me friend but you sit there and listen to me and tell them every word. I know how this works."

She stared at him for a long time and then she leaned forward. "No one hears what you tell me but me. No one gets access to my notes. No one."

"No one ... I've heard that before."

"You're hearing it from me." She met his gaze, holding it for a silent moment. "I mean it, Tom. No one."

He looked away, at the wall that hid view of the ocean that he loved. He wished he was a bird to fly over the wall and head out into the blue ocean beyond. He would fly forever, he thought, free of the earth and all the trouble below him. Flying was his salvation and he longed for it once more. He longed for anonymity and the blue sky just out of reach of his hand.

**********On a fast ship heading for the DMZ...

He sat in the Brig dressed in civilian clothing and he wondered about the safety of his family once more. Where were his wife, his children, his friends and neighbors? What had happened on his beloved home world in the ten years he had been gone? He didn't know. He sighed and closed his eyes thinking of a pretty young woman who loved him and the small hildren that looked up to him for guidance and protection. One of them was in prison and the rest were scattered. One of them was condemned to death and the rest? They were in jeopardy.

This Federation, these hard men that led her, they were ready to sacrifice his children one by one to get the battle over. The war was over but for this one battle and they were coming to end game thinking, this Federation that held his son. He considered his options, his possibilities. They would transfer him to their flagship, the Enterprise. He felt anger pulse through him when he considered that ship. He remembered his father and Picard negotiating for something that would prevent them having to abandon their home.

It had been made, this treaty and it hadn't held. You can't appease murderers he had said. His own father had known that was true but it had bought them time to organize a resistance. He had been a part of it stepping in when his father was too ill. He had been there when his father finally died promising him to help free their people and their homeworld.

The Maquis had been a part of his promise and he meant to keep it enduring through the captivity with the Cardassians and the captivity with the Federation. It had been a part of him, this personal endurance and he kept himself going with the idea that someday his wife would be in his arms once more and his children would sit down together at his table and give thanks that they were still alive and free.

Now it all fell to him. He had to use his prestige to turn gold into iron. He had to make it happen so that his son might live. They hit him in his Achilles heel. Of course, if he were good and things worked out other courses might take shape. On this he would meditate, praying to the spirits that had sustained him all his faithful life to give him strength and wisdom now when he needed it more than ever.

**********Crazy Horse...

They flew toward home striking bases here and there, taking measurements of the build up that was happening along the DMZ. They still couldn't detect the ships, both of them moving with impunity and at one time, they thought they could detect the Enterprise coming after them.

Chakotay stared at the screen thoughts of his father in his mind. Nayib had extended terms for negotiations and they expected among the delegation that Kolopak would be there. They had asked for both his father and brother but had only been told that one would come. A team of negotiators including Owen Paris would be coming and they would all get to the rendezvous point on Enterprise. It was as if the universe was conspiring to make him ill. Owen Paris, his father, the Enterprise. It was almost too much to hope possible. Chakotay rose and walked to the lift nodding to Harry as he left. Harry nodded back and watched as Chakotay disappeared. The older man looked tired and he had lost weight. He looked spare, if there was such a thing and Harry knew that he missed Tom.

He sighed himself, missing Tom being near the top of his list and images of B'Elanna entered his mind. He still couldn't get over how completely she had separated herself from the past. She was over Tom he could tell and he felt full of mourning for them both. They were going home and he would be there in three hours. When he did he was going to get a good dinner, a massage and find someone to fuck. He grinned slightly. That's how it felt, raw and out of step with his basic sweet character but he felt it powerfully. He was going to find someone to fuck if it took him all night long.

**********Captain's Cabin...

Chakotay replicated himself a salad and took it along with bread and tea to his table. He sat and stared at a large picture on the wall. It was Tom and he was smiling, that smartassed smile that he had when he felt vindicated over something. Chakotay sighed and toasted the picture with his cup. "Where are you, Tom?" he asked softly. "I wish you were here."

He picked at his meal, his appetite having dropped off in the past few weeks and knew he had to eat more. Forcing himself, he finished his meal and then replicated a beer. Turning, he walked to the picture and stared at it. He raised his beer to the picture sighing deeply. "You're needed here, babe. I wish you were here."

He turned and walked to the couch sitting and staring at the work padds lying on the coffee table. With a sigh, he picked one up and began to read. He would bury himself in work, pushing other things from his mind until nighttime when they came unbidden. Until then, he would make himself useful.

**********San Francisco...

They sat on the rock staring over the wall and frowned. It had been a total pain in the ass to find out that a new prototype security bracelet had been put on Tom Paris' ankle. It was set to reactivate thirty seconds after being deactivated and set off all the alarms. They had barely made it to the skiff and by the time they had cleared the rocks they could hear the pandemonium above.

They were sure now that they would not be getting him out of there in a conventional way. They would have to do something else or wait for an opportunity to arise. It would take longer than they had planned for but they would get him out. That much was sure.

**********In space...

They rendezvoused with the Enterprise in a backwater of space. They transferred their prisoner and the delegation that would be handling the main preliminary negotiations. It would take place at a specified neutral spot in space and then once the terms and location were agreed upon for formal full negotiations, they would go there and meet the main delegates. Among them would be Owen Paris, Head of Star Fleet Intelligence.

**********San Francisco...

She paced up and down the corridor waiting with ill-concealed impatience for an audience with her one time commander and long time professional role model. Owen Paris had been an exemplary ship's captain and she had learned a great deal about her profession from his example. That his personal life was less successful had been of no concern to her in reality. Many of the captains that worked Star Fleet had been in the same boat, family and personal obligations taking a back seat to duty and the thrill of working on star ships. She herself was a case in point.

Now she wanted to see him and talk to him, working out some kind of place for herself in her interminable quest for some kind of life. She had a vested interest in this business, probably more than anyone and Paris owed her an explanation. If the accusations by Beyvahl were right she had been used. It had been rejected out of hand when he told her but reflection, damned reflection had made that harder and harder to do. They had used her, *used* her and she wanted to have someone stand before her and tell her how they could do that.

She had been faithful, more than faithful. She had been fucking obsessed. She had done it by the book, brought a crew and ship home and they had done this to her. It rankled, it burned, it stuck in her craw. It hurt her. She was deeply wounded. She felt stupid, used and hurt. Someone needed to tell her to her face that she was a fucking fool and then maybe she could accept the truth that stared her in the face. She wanted to know about her crew. She wanted to know about the prison in Arizona or New Mexico. She wanted to see Tom and talk to him. She wanted vengeance.

That was the bottom line.

She wanted to kick someone in the ass and get back her honor. She paused and watched someone leave, glancing at the secretary that sat nearby. She shrugged a helpless look on her face and Janeway began pacing once again. She would stay here until hell froze over and the little liars came out to skate. That she could do.

**********Enterprise...

They watched as the tall dignified man walked down the corridor to the rooms that were set aside for him. Dignitaries that were to make the preliminary arrangements watched him too. Picard had nodded at him, remembering the older man with white hair that had been party to the negotiations at Dorvan V. He was aware that this man was his prisoner's father. He watched as dark eyes impaled him with their intensity and he felt his face flush with reaction. He had walked past, flanked by guards and then he was gone disappearing into the ship and his continued captivity. The others turned and the conversation began but it only held so much of his attention. Picard was preoccupied by the silent man that with a glance dredged up bad memories long in the past.

Tom watched him go, noting that his demeanor was strong and tense. He glanced at Picard, noting his tension and filed a question or two in his mind to ask later. The group turned and walked toward the lift when Picard slowed and turned to him.

"Will, I would like you to take personal charge of the prisoner. See to it that he gets what he needs within the confines of his situation."

Tom nodded smiling slightly. "I will be glad to, Captain."

They walked to the lift and entered Tom stepping off at Kolopak's deck. He watched the lift close and the group move on. Turning, he walked down the corridor to the Ambassador's apartments. Two guards stood outside the door and they looked at him when he arrived. "Stay on your toes," Riker said as he punched in the code for the door. They nodded to him and he entered, the door closing behind him.

The room was darkened and it was hard to see for a moment. Then his eyes became focused and he could see someone standing by the window staring out at the stars beyond and the ship that had brought him there. He turned and looked at Riker waiting passively for him to speak. Riker stepped forward stopping by the window himself. He stared at Kolopak and smiled slightly. "Kolopak of Dorvan V?"

Dark eyes regarded him levelly. "And you are?"

Riker smiled, extending his hand. "My name is Tom."

=0=

Book Fifteen: Nuclear Winter 3/4

=0=

Later that night...

They sat together teacups in hand and feet propped up on the table before them. It was quiet after the long and intense conversation between them and Kolopak felt better than he had in years. "Thank you," he said quietly putting his cup down.

"You're welcome," Riker replied.

"You know why I'm here."

Riker nodded.

"They told me that my son is under a death sentence and they will carry it out if I don't figure out a way to make the Maquis step down."

"Shit." Riker sighed and put his cup down sitting forward as he considered the news. "That can't happen."

"No, Mr. Riker, it can't," Kolopak declared quietly.

"We'll have to get them out of prison. We have to do it now. If we don't circumstances will force their hand and they'll kill Bey."

"What do you have in mind?" Kolopak asked his face a mask of anxiety.

"Tell me everything that you know about the prison and I mean everything. I'll get it to Nayib and Chakotay. While the focus is here we can go and get them out. Your inside knowledge is key to making a rescue that can work."

Kolopak looked at him hope sparkling through him like electricity. He nodded moving to the desk nearby. "You don't need that. I won't forget what you tell me and I have unlimited access to you. You can tell me bit by bit and I'll transcribe it later."

Kolopak nodded moving to sit next to the big man who could deliver them all from evil if things worked out. For the next forty minutes, he explained to Tom how the camp layout was designed and how the security rotations worked. Before they made it to the rendezvous point Tom Riker would have the entire camp, its security system and its staff, routines and procedures worked out. Before they rendezvoused Tom Riker would have it all encoded and encapsulated on a disk ready to send to Nayib.

**********Maquis HQ, at the same time ...

Nayib sat looking at the encrypted message. It had been sent through the array two days before and was the last communication that they had received from Enterprise. He sat a moment and then commed Chakotay. "Where are you?"

"I'm on Crazy Horse, my office. Why?"

"Stay there. I'm on my way."

Nayib rose and called for beam up materializing in the Ready Room of Crazy Horse. Chakotay sat at his desk looking at his brother curiously. "What?"

Nayib handed him the padd watching as Chakotay read it. He watched the color drain from Chakotay's face. when he looked up it was with clouded eyes. "They have Father."

Nayib nodded. "He's being brought here by Enterprise. Tom Riker is with him."

"We have to ask Tom things. We have to know how Papa is."

"We will. I'm going to have Reg send a message to Tom. When he's got it he can contact us at the rendezvous point."

"Why? Why would they bring Papa out here?"

"I don't know. Tom only says that they're going to."

"Shit." Chakotay rose and walked to the window pressing his hands against the cool glassine surface. "Shit, Nayib. Papa."

"I know." Nayib walked up and stood next to him. "Chakotay, this is very dangerous ground we're treading. They can't have him here for good purposes."

"What do you suppose they want him to do? What do you suppose they'll do to him by bringing him?"

"I don't know," Nayib said, his eyes dark with emotion. "I just know that if they hurt him we will wage war on everyone and everything. There won't be any mercy for anyone, anywhere."

Chakotay turned and gazed at Nayib's cold anguished face. He considered Nayib's words and then he nodded agreement. He turned and looked out noting their arsenal floating in circles around the planet they called homebase. There was silence in the room for a long time.

**********San Francisco...

Owen took a deep breath as the door opened and Kathryn Janeway stepped in. She walked to his desk, her face dark with emotion and she stopped waiting for him to speak.

"Please sit, Kathryn."

"I'll stand."

He looked at her and sighed. "Speak your mind freely."

"You used me. You used me for some ends. You sacrificed me and my ship and crew, to make something happen. I want to know why. I want to know where my people are. I want to know where Tom is, where the 'Fleet crew is from Voyager, I want to know why you betrayed everything we believe in. I want to know *now*."

"You want to know? It's simple. We did it for the good of the order."

"You don't deny it?" she whispered her face reflecting the depth of her astonishment. "You don't deny that my people are in prison and that you sacrificed the Sorrel Bay and her crew for *what*? For the *good of the order*?"

Owen stared at her, at her perfect fury and sighed. "We don't have to tell you what we have to do. You're to obey orders or have you forgotten?"

Her face was a distortion of fury. "Forgotten?" she hissed as she moved closer to his desk. "How dare you tell me about duty? I brought back my ship and my crew from 70,000 light years and seven years of living hell. How dare you question my patriotism or my loyalty."

He stared at her and waited. She was livid and he waited for her to vent. She looked at him and then the picture on the corner of her desk. She reached for it, picking it up. She glanced at him. "Where did you put him? What hellhole is Tom locked up in?" she demanded. "What have you done with him?"

"He's safe."

"I have only your word for that and frankly, *Admiral*, your word isn't worth shit to me now."

Owen sighed and turned walking to the window. "I bargained for him. I begged them for him on my knees." The room was silent as a tomb as he stared out at the people walking by below. "I begged them for my son and they relented. He's in The Briars, a ... a rest home nearby here. We're trying to make him well."

"Well from what? Is he sick?" she asked suddenly afraid.

He turned and looked at her. "I had to have him declared mentally ill so they wouldn't disappear him into the prison system."

She stared at him her stomach churning. "He isn't sick. He isn't."

"They would have put him in prison. I couldn't let that happen again. I want my son, do you understand? I want my son."

"I want my ship! I want my crew back! I sent you their dossiers. I sent you letters to tell you of their service. How could you take this away from me? From all of us!" They stared at each other and then she turned walking to the door. She paused and then turned to him. "You're a bastard. You're a ... a disgrace. I'm going to get my ship and my people back. I owe it to them do you hear me? I owe them. I *promised them. I ... I promised ..." She swallowed hard and then turned walking out the door.

Owen watched her go and then turned pressing a button.

"Admiral?"

"Send Josh in please." He waited a moment and then a tall plains clothed man stepped inside.

"Admiral?"

"I want you to watch Kathryn Janeway. She just left. I want to know what she does 24/7."

He nodded and turned leaving as silently as he came. Owen stood for a moment staring at the door and then sat slowly and wearily. He had to get going. His time to leave for the meetings was coming up. Before he did he had to make sure that his son was all right. He had to do right by his boy. He had to.

**********Maquis HQ...

Nayib looked at the message from Tom Riker that he had just received and swallowed hard. His father was coming and Bey was in dire straights. He considered the information and knew that getting people out of Roswell had just moved up on the priority list. He rose and walked to the window noting that Crazy Horse was nearly ready to stand out. Soon it would be riding along with Sorrel Bay, shadowing the shuttle that would carry him and the five others to the preliminary meetings that would be held on the Enterprise. They would remain to take care of business if the Federation played fast and loose with them.

He considered their party noting that only the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire would be a part of their group. They would keep the Federation President and Secretary of State in storage and deal them against the future. God only knew what they had in mind for his father he considered. He knew that if it was not good he would make sure that there was hell to pay.

**********The Briars...

He changed into his civilian clothes, stepping out of the official uniform of the ill, bathrobe and pajamas. It felt good to have real clothes and real shoes on. His father watched him noting his graceful movements, so nice to see in such a tall man. Tom finished and turned standing silently as his father turned to the administrators. They conversed softly and then Owen turned a smile on his face. "Let's go, shall we?" he said watching as Tom picked up his jacket and walked to the door. They passed the group honchos and continued out to the first security checkpoint, discreet and pleasant in manner as they tuned Tom's bracelet to the Star Fleet frequency that Owen had given them.

He endured it with good grace and then walked out the door to the fresh air and sunshine of a San Francisco morning. They entered his car and were driven home by his chauffeur, a perk of his rank that even Tom admired. They pulled up at the house, his mother standing on the sidewalk smiling and waiting to embrace him in her arms. He hugged her, holding her for a long time and then together they walked up the flagstone walkway and into the house. His sisters and their husbands and children were there and for a few hours, they enjoyed each other talking and eating a barbecue lunch on the deck, the shimmering water of the ocean open to his inspection. He stood on the deck staring at its wild and blue expanses and thought of birds.

**********Nearby...

She stood waiting, biding her time as she watched the sun overhead. Soon it would be dark and then she would make her move. It was hot and she sat on the grass stretching her legs. It was a long time since she could just sit in the sun, *real* sun and not be responsible for life and death just steps away. Yet even now she was. She had been a fool trusting that the thing she loved would love her back that much. Officers, gentlemen, all. It rankled. She had let them down and it was up to her as their captain to get them out of the jam they were in through no fault of their own.

Kathryn Janeway sighed and looked at her watch. It was early and the sun was taking its own sweet time. It would be a long time before darkness and the witching hour. She would be slipping into Admiral Paris' house and undoing her first big error if she could. She would liberate Tom Paris. Then she would move on to the others. She would affect the plan and they would all be free. Then she would take her lumps like a man. She grinned, the word choice making her smile. It had been a long time since she had smiled. It felt good. She lay back and put the straw hat over her eyes closing them against the warm light that beat down from the sun of her ancestral sky.

=0=

Book Fifteen: Nuclear Winter 4/4

=0=

He stood on the boardwalk, staring out into the dark night, the sound of ocean swells filling his ears. He was oddly at peace, relaxing in the silence. Dinner and time with the family had been soothing after a moment or two of awkwardness. They had barbecued dinner and talked, laughing and catching up on things and the best part of it was the fact that for the first time in his life in the company of his father, Tom Paris felt his age. When he was with his father, he seldom felt like a man. He was always on parade, under inspection and as he was, his nerves reflected this posture.

However, today he was his father's companion, the older man taking time to talk to him, to ask him things, to let him do something. It was disconcerting and then it was warm. It warmed him how hard his father was trying. It was unnerving but warming.

They had enjoyed food, watching the kids play in the ocean and when everyone had left, Tom had come to the deck, watching the sea birds settle in for the night. He was engrossed in the view and didn't notice his father standing nearby, watching him. Tom didn't notice the anguish on his face, the indecision and then the resolution.

Owen walked down the steps toward the platform where Tom stood. He was next to the steps that lead to the boardwalk nearby. The boardwalk followed the beach and then rose again, ascending a hill to a cul de sac nearby. Someone was waiting there to take him away, away from the machinations of the Federation apparatus that he served. Tom would be gone from here for exactly one minute before the security officers beamed in and found his bracelet hooked to the deck.

He walked down the last step and took his place beside Tom, taking a deep breath of fresh salty air. "Smells good."

"I love the ocean."

"I know," Owen said, looking at his son memorizing his features. "I know you do. You always did. You loved boats too. I remember."

Tom turned and looked at his father, studying his face. "What's up, Dad?"

Owen stared at the sea for a moment and then turned looking at his son with anguish. "I want you out of here," Owen said. "I want you away from Star Fleet. I have to tell you something, son. I want you to listen well. Please tell me that you'll hear my words."

Tom straightened and nodded.

Owen sighed. "I missed the boat with you, I know that now. When you were gone, when I thought that you would not be coming back I was so angry. I was livid. I thought there you go again."

Tom flushed staring with pained eyes at his father's anguish.

"I was angry at the universe that my son, *my son* should always be just *that* far away from my grasp. I didn't realize ... I didn't understand. I had a lot of time to think about things, a lot of time to regret." He swallowed hard. "I had a lot of time to mourn you, son. Then I realized what I had done, all the times I wasn't there, all the times I was measuring you against the same standards that *my* old man used. I remembered how much I hated it and there I was doing it with you." He turned

and looked at Tom. "I regret it, Tom. I regret it deeply."

Tom shifted uncomfortable with his father's emotion. "Dad, I-"

"No. Let me finish." Owen swallowed. "I let you down. I let the family down. Now you're in danger and I can't let you down, Tom. I have to make sure that you're out of danger. I begged them to let me keep you in my custody when you came back. I knew that you'd go to the prison in Roswell. I couldn't allow that. I couldn't let you go back to prison again. I'm sorry, Tom. I'm sorry that I never came to see you or tried to get you a different place. They put you in maximum when one word from me it could have been different. I let you down."

Tom stared at him, at the tears that glistened in his eyes and was speechless. His father was on the edge and he could only watch wordless to comment.

"I've got a plan. I want you to go down the boardwalk and climb the stairs watching for a flashing light. When you see it go toward it. There's a person there that will get you out of here."

"Dad ... what ... where do I go from there?" Tom asked suddenly filled with indecision. "What about you? What about Mom?"

"I'm taking your bracelet fastening it to the piling here like you put it there. I've rigged it to give you a minute's head start. All you have to do is sprint to the hill and climb the stairs. Go with the person there and when you're free send me a message. They'll tell you how."

Tom stared at his father, at his house and then his father again. He was uncertain and emotional. He stood there a moment and then stepped forward embracing his father in a bear hug. Owen hugged him back blinking as tears ran down his cheeks. They stood together clinging to each other and then Owen stepped back swiping away the tears on his cheek. "You just go and don't look back. They won't do anything to us. Just get some place safe."

Tom nodded blinking as tears slipped down his cheeks.

"Tom ... I meant it when I said I was proud of you that first time we talked over the link. I ... I just want you to know ..." Owen swallowed hard falling into silence.

"I know," Tom said gently. "I love you too."

They stood a moment and then embraced again. When they stepped back Owen knelt down and stared up. "Any questions?"

Tom shook his head. "Hug Mom and the girls. Okay? Tell them I'll be all right."

Owen nodded and then touched a small metallic device to the bracelet. The light went out and it fell off. Owen arose, bracelet in hand and fastened it to the railing. Turning he sighed and nodded. "Run, Tom. Run like the wind."

Tom hesitated and nodded turning and running down the stairs. Owen watched him as he sprinted down the boardwalk and up the stairs on the far side. He watched and the light flashed signaling that his son was on his way. He moved and stood staring at the sight for a long time. As he did a sound of re-materializing chimed behind him. He turned and saw two Star Fleet security officers with rifles. He pointed at the bracelet and one of them stepped forward checking it. "Did you see which way he went, sir?" he asked.

Owen stared at him and then the sea. "He went off that way," he said pointing in the opposite direction his son had gone.

The men nodded and hurried descending the steps and rushing on toward the beachfront farther up. Owen watched as they disappeared and then bracelet in hand slowly made the climb back up to his house.

**********Far away...

They boarded the shuttle and launched her from the Crazy Horse. Rick Batehart flew the shuttle, the Delta Flyer repainted and marked as Maquis. Tuvok sat with Batehart and behind him Nayib and four people posing as members of the Revolutionary Council. Sitting silently staring at each with wary eyes, the Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire waited. They had traveled out, moving toward the Enterprise who sat in space waiting for their arrival. The meetings would take place after more decisions were made ship-to-ship and then they would go over to the Enterprise and talk.

Crazy Horse and Liberty commanded by Harry Kim flew nearby, shielded and undetectable. As long as their people were on the Enterprise the two ships would be there armed and ready to fire.

Chakotay sat at his chair his fingers tapping over and over on the console. He was lost in thought as he considered the myriad of things that could go wrong. He also considered the plan they had made to take out the weapons, shields and mobility of Enterprise should the Federation go back on its word. It was tense and he felt it. He had watched as Nayib dressed, Tabor standing in the doorway his dark eyes never leaving his lover. Chakotay sat on the bed his tenseness supreme and wondered how Nayib could look so calm. The big man turned and looked at Chakotay smiling broadly. "You look like shit."

"So do you. Sort of," Chakotay riposted grinning in spite of himself. "I wouldn't want to be you."

"You will be me if the fuckers do us dirty. I have already made sure that you fill my shoes."

"Don't say that," Chakotay said suddenly frowning with pain at even the thought. "I can't lose you, Nub. Don't even kid."

Nayib looked at him thoughtfully and nodded. "Sorry. It must be my nerves."

Chakotay nodded and rose embracing his brother tightly. He sighed and nodded to Nayib. "I better go and get things ready to ship out."

"Catch you on board in a minute."

Chakotay left patting Tabor's shoulder as he passed him in the doorway. Tabor smiled wanly and turned his concerned eyes back to his lover. "May I second his sentiments?"

Nayib smiled and pulled the smaller man into a bear hug. Tabor pressed against him inhabiting Nayib's space. "I love you. Don't fuck up and get killed."

Nayib smiled. "You underestimate me."

"Probably."

"That's the fatal flaw in people's thinking," Nayib said a serious expression on his face. "I don't intend to fall into their hands."

Tabor nodded and kissed him. "Come back and make an honest man of me."

Nayib smiled brilliantly. "You proposing?"

"Yeah," Tabor said grinning broadly.

"Accepted," Nayib said kissing Tabor long and leisurely. He smiled and sighed. "Ah, the little woman is waiting back at the corral for the big old cowboy to saunter back to the ranch."

Tabor grinned. "Is that it? I'm the little woman?"

"Probably," Nayib said waggling his eyes jauntily. "I know I'm not. I look like hell in a dress."

Tabor snorted and laughed. "Well, I don't know about me either. I'm a leather pants kind of guy myself."

"Yeah?" Nayib said smiling. "Save them for me when I get back. I want to take them off of you."

"Done deal," Tabor said leaning into Nayib's kiss. He sighed against Nayib's lips. "I love you so much. Don't leave me alone."

"I won't, babe," Nayib said his face serious. "I love you too. Just wait for me. I'll be back."

Tabor nodded and stepped back watching as Nayib armed himself and turned. He leaned down and kissed Tabor lingering on his lips. "See you soon."

Tabor nodded and watched as Nayib walked out the door. He stood shaking watching as his stability, his love and his hope left him alone. This man was his friend, his lover, his joy. Now he was going to meet the enemy face to face and he felt a fear fill him that he hadn't felt since the days of the Cardassian occupation and all the long days in the camps. He walked to the bed and sat picking up a towel that Nayib had tossed to one side. He smelled it, the fresh masculine smell of his lover still strong. He felt the tears and he blinked them back refusing to give in now to the emotions he could never let emerge in the camps.

That was weakness and that meant attention. Attention meant death. He quashed it and arose, towel in hand. He walked to the window and looked into the sky. It was blue and sunny, darkness many hours away. He wouldn't be able to see the bright specks that circled overhead, the comfort their presence giving him uplifting.

It would be days before they came back and when they did he would be waiting running the office for Nayib as he had been asked to do. He sighed and turned walking to the desk and the interminable work that called to him. It would be good to be busy for a while he thought sitting at the desk, the towel across his lap. It was better than sitting and thinking. With a sigh he began to do his job as he waited for Crazy Horse and Liberty to leave.

=0=


	16. Chapter 16

=0=

Book Sixteen: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

It felt good, the wind on his face after so much confinement. He lay back in the seat, letting the cool breeze wash over him, all cares and responsibilities falling away like leaves in the autumn. They were motoring across the great Arizona desert, heading for a rendezvous point that she wouldn't reveal. He had swallowed his astonishment to see her driving the car that took him away from The Briars and in their haste to get away he had not asked questions. He was tired in a drugged sort of way and as such leaned back allowing the night air to soothe him.

Kathryn Janeway focused on the road speeding along at just above the maximum permissible limit. They were headed for a haven, one that would allow them to regroup. For hours, they drove and then she turned off heading up a dirt road into the desert. After the Third World War the planet had made changes, unification government facilitating a lot of different ideas. Much of Earth was now preserved land, the pristine showcase of humanity's roots. They were on the edge of an old reservation, one that would lead them to a house that was waiting. They would pull in there and she would wait for the signal to move on. She would wait for reinforcements to arrive.

**********In a shuttle, far away...

Nayib waited for the signal and when it came he opened a channel, voices only. "Shuttle One, this is the Enterprise. We are seeking the signal."

"Enterprise, this is Shuttle One. We give it now. 'Freedom'."

There was a pause and then a picture graced their screen. "Shuttle One, my name is Jean-Luc Picard and I am Captain of this vessel. I am prepared to open negotiations with you for formal peace talks at a place of mutual agreement."

Nayib flicked a switch, his image appearing on the screen of the Enterprise Bridge. Tom Riker stared at it, at the man he had learned to call friend and felt waves of emotion. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the Maquis, the people who like Nayib had taken him in and given him a home.

"My name is Beyvahl. I am prepared to discuss agreements for formal peace talks. I am aware that you have something that belongs to me."

Picard regarded the figure before him, noting the tattoo on his forehead. It brought back memories of another man, one who was similarly marked and he knew he was speaking with a kinsman. He straightened slightly. "I understand that you have something that belongs to me."

Nayib smiled slightly. "Show me yours."

Picard turned and nodded to Riker, who rose and walked to the side of the screen. He returned, his hand on the arm of a familiar person. Nayib, bracing himself betrayed no emotion as he saw his father again for the first time in nearly a decade. For a moment, it was silent and then Nayib swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "E-'do-'da." (*Cherokee/Tsalagi: Father) Kolopak swallowed hard himself and nodded, his eyes never leaving his son's image. "To-hi-ju?" (*Cherokee/Tsalagi: Are you well?)

Kolopak nodded. "(T)do 'hi-qu-u." (*Cherokee/Tsalagi: Yes, I am well.)

Nayib nodded and turned a cold gaze on Picard, who was standing silently next to them during the exchange. "We have something each of us values. It will be part of the discussion, leaving with our own possessions."

"You haven't shown me yours," Picard countered.

The view changed and the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire showed up on screen, pale but composed.

"Ambassador," Picard began, "Are you all right?"

"So far, Captain," the Ambassador replied. "Through no fault of my own."

The view changed and Nayib's cold eyes met Picard's. "Satisfied?"

"No," Picard replied. "But for now it will do."

Nayib nodded.

"Shall you come aboard?" Picard asked.

"After an appropriate exchange of hostages. If I am to come on board Enterprise then someone from Enterprise has to come over here."

Picard considered his words and turned to Riker. "Mr. Riker, will you do the honors?"

Tom considered the Captain's words and then nodded. "Very well."

He stepped aside from Kolopak and waited, the shimmering effect humming and finally he disappeared. In his place tall and physically intimidating, the intense figure of Nayib appeared.

For a moment, it was quiet and then Nayib turned looking at his father with emotional eyes. Kolopak turned and stepped toward Nayib, a guard moving to counter his action. Picard raised his hand and the guard paused, Kolopak walking past him toward his son. They embraced, Nayib nearly lifting his father from the ground in the strength of his hug.

It was silent, even respectful as they held each other the pain and sorrow of ten years hanging like a mist around them. Nayib bit back tears, his father's arms strong around him and then he stepped back looking the older man over with care. He paused and turned looking at Picard, his arm protectively around his father's shoulder. He waited, noting the strange emotion in Picard's eyes. "We're ready to talk to you, Captain," Nayib said. "We are including the disposition of this man in the conditions."

"I don't have permission to trade for hostages. We're here to discuss holding peace talks," Picard replied.

Nayib stiffened. "We include this man in negotiations. You asked for this meeting, not us. You were the one who wants to talk. We came here without strings attached. If we say this man is included in the negotiations agreements then we say it is so."

Picard stared at him, his intensity and iron control and sighed. "I will have to contact my government. I have no orders to trade anyone on board for a hostage."

Nayib nodded. "Then you better do it. It's part of our formal demands now."

Picard considered the criminal before him, the calm older man who watched them both without comment and he felt the old contempt for chaos rise in him. Then he quashed it, the inconvenience of personal feelings dangerous to the mission. He also felt the guilt, the sense of responsibility that came with these people, these people of Dorvan V. This family in particular. He didn't like being given demands by criminals, but he also didn't like the feelings of obligation that he had either. It was a mess.

Picard gestured toward the conference room and the two men followed guards with guns behind them. They entered it sitting at the chairs, Kolopak and Nayib on one side and Picard and Troi on the other. It was silent for a moment. "We received your little gift. Needless to say it made its point."

Nayib nodded. "We're very interested Captain in what it will take to get justice for our people? How many of us do you have to kill or imprison before your blood lust is assuaged?"

"You cut off a man's hand. I find your accusation of blood lust interesting in light of that," Picard countered.

Nayib shrugged, a cold smile crossing his face. "Small sacrifice for the thousands and thousands of innocent lives lost out here because the Federation couldn't be bothered. I paid taxes too. I served the Federation by voting and obeying the law and working toward the future. All I asked was when the danger came I would get what everyone else got, equal protection."

"You were given a chance to relocate. You were given a chance to be safe."

"On someone else's land, on someone else's terms," Nayib said leaning forward his arms crossed before him. "Tell me, Picard, if someone told you to pack up your life and move would you have? It's common knowledge that your family has holdings on Earth, graves in cemeteries, ties to land and landscape. If you had to give that up to alien barbarians what would you do?"

Picard looked at Nayib, visions of his family vineyard, the valleys of his beloved France and the graves of his parents crossing his mind. "I would probably feel the same way you do."

"Then let's get something clear. Don't minimize or deny our suffering. We were cut loose. We had no other choice but to fight and instead of being our allies you sold us out. You helped the Cardassians when you didn't help us and in the end, your appeasement meant outright war. Don't look at us for the situation that stands. We had no other choice. Look to your own rotten core."

It was silent a moment and then Picard leaned back regarding the two men. "We have arranged to have negotiations at Khitomer. All of your grievances will have a chance to air. We are asking that you arrive unarmed."

"And you? Will you lay down your arms?"

"We are proposing a neutral zone around Khitomer. All of the delegates will shuttle to the meetings. All of the ships of war will remain outside the zone."

"Including yours?"

"We will bring the delegations there but they will take shuttles to Khitomer."

Nayib considered his words. "You do know that this is not going to be just a chat session. I want genuine substantiative talks. We have grievances not the least of which are the prisoners in New Mexico. Voyager's crew, the 'Fleet crew were taken under the pretense of being freed and interned in that camp. I want to

know why."

Picard regarded him. "I don't know about that situation."

"You don't?" Nayib leaned forward. "What else don't you know about, Captain? Tell me as someone used to having no value in Federation eyes what crimes did Voyager's crew commit to earn them this fate after flying back 70,000 light years to home?"

Picard listened, his face neutral of emotion. "I am authorized to talk to you about the meeting site and the agenda." He handed a padd to Nayib who perused it for a moment or two. Nayib reached into his shirt and pulled out a padd of his own. "These are our concerns. If they aren't included we don't have a meeting."

Picard looked them over and nodded. "I will add them. I have that authority."

Nayib nodded. "An exchange of hostages would be a good faith act between us. We are prepared to hand over the Ambassador in exchange for this man."

It was quiet a long time and then Picard shook his head. "I don't have authorization."

Nayib stared at him, oceans of frustration and cold hatred welling up in his chest. He leaned forward. "If this man isn't present at the negotiations at Khitomer we will not only execute the prisoners that we hold we will send the Federation a message they won't long forget. I hope you impress that on your superiors. There will be no negotiations without the presence of this man. Understood?"

Picard met Nayib's eyes, the intensity daunting. "Understood," he said softly. He rose and so did Troi, silent and pale beside him. Nayib rose, his father likewise and they embraced tightly. For the two of them there was nothing else and when they

reluctantly broke their embrace there were tears in Nayib's eyes. "Do-na-da-'go-v-i," he whispered his father nodding in

agreement.

"Do-na-da-'go-v-i." (*Cherokee/Tsalagi: Goodbye or until we meet again.)

He looked at his father, a helplessness he had never felt washing through him and then he tapped his comm badge. He dissolved and then disappeared, his father watching until he was gone. Kolopak turned and looked at Picard with defiant eyes. "Do I go back into chains now, Captain or is my usefulness over?"

Picard swallowed turning his gaze on the guards. "Show our guest to his quarters."

Kolopak smirked at him, at the intimation of his cooperation in Picard's choice of words and then he turned and walked from the room. Picard watched him go and then sat again, gesturing Troi to join him. She sat folding her hands together. "What do you think, Counselor?"

"I think he means every word he says. The Federation might have done a wrong thing bringing this man's father out here. His presence might have made it just that much harder to find common ground. As long as Kolopak is a prisoner there will be no bigger goal for this man than to free him."

Picard nodded and sighed. "I was afraid of that myself."

**********On the Bridge...

Riker materialized noting his surroundings. The shuttle on the screen had turned and jumped to warp. It disappeared from view and they were alone. On the shuttle, he had delivered a lot of information including shield frequencies. They had talked until he had to come back, the hostage safely locked away from view and hearing in the back hold. Turning, he walked to the conference room and the two quiet people sitting together. "How did it go?" he asked innocent eyes passing from a pre-occupied Picard and a chastened Troi.

"It's complicated, Number One," Picard said his thoughts on the man in his custody. "Very, very complicated."

Riker nodded sighing with amusement. "I think you're right, Captain."

Troi didn't meet his eye.

=0=

Book Sixteen: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

It was dark when they finished the drive, stepping out at a small adobe house. It was in a gully, deserted and abandoned on an old reservation and it didn't look like anyone had lived there for years. Kathryn pulled a bag out of the car and waited for Tom to step out of the vehicle. He stretched and looked at her wondering what would happen next. She turned and walked to the house stepping inside. The lights came on and she walked to the couch putting her bag next to it even as she pulled a small device out.

Tom watched her, noting her intensity and walked to a chair sitting and stretching out his legs. He watched warily as she stepped forward sweeping his body with the device. A soft beep sounded and she scanned him again settling the instrument near to his neck. "What's that?" he asked dreading the answer.

"A tracking device." She looked at him and then turned walking and picking out another from her bag. She keyed in a code and waited.

"Yes," a voice said soft and clear, emanating from her communicator.

"We're here. He's dirty. Come."

"Affirmative."

She keyed off both devices and sat down on the couch rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"So what's in my neck? A time bomb? A lethal disease pellet designed to go off when I'm back with the Maquis again?"

"It's a tracking device, Tom. They put it in your neck the night that your escape failed."

Tom's expression hardened. "Dad did this."

"Not by choice. He had no choice," she said meeting his gaze levelly. "They were going to send you back to prison and then someone had this big idea. Let you escape with a plant attached to your body."

"Then I *finally* escape and they have their foot in the door," Tom said a hard edge to his voice.

"That was *their* plan," she countered sitting back against the couch. "Your father had other ideas."

"Such as?"

"He arranged to have you home and then *he* could make the escape happen. Once you were free then you could have the device removed."

"By who?" Tom asked eying her warily.

"By experts," she said. "The device will dissolve in a year leaving no trace. We're having it removed."

"We are?" he asked watching her curiously flat expression.

"Yes, we are. We can't have ourselves tracked."

It was quiet a moment.

"Are you going to tell me the plan?" Tom asked noting that she rose to the sound of a vehicle approaching outside. He sat quietly, his eyes flickering between the door and Janeway. She relaxed and waited as the sounds of people coming met them. The door opened and two men stepped in, followed by three others. Tom looked at them, then at Janeway noting that they were familiar with each other.

"So what gives?" he asked glancing from one to the other. They turned and looked at him, the leader turning his gaze to Janeway. "Did you tell him?"

"He knows."

"Good," the man replied. He turned to Tom. "I think we need to eliminate the tracking device in your neck."

Tom nodded suddenly uneasy. "All right. Then what?"

"Then," he began, "We figure out how we're going to liberate the prison camp down the road."

**********At the Maquis HQ...

Nayib barely made it through the door before he was tackled. Tabor embraced him with all his strength, rising off the floor as Nayib hugged him back. They stood together holding each other as Chakotay and Tuvok slipped past them heading for chairs in the room. Finally, they broke apart, an insanely happy smile on Tabor's face. "You made it in one piece. Did you have luck?"

Nayib smiled and kissed him. "I think so. We have to message back that we accept, or not the conditions."

"They want us to come to Khitomer, to a zone of neutrality and make conversation," Tuvok reasoned. "They have our conditions and we have theirs."

"Nothing we can't live with I think," Chakotay said considering the simple list of necessaries that the Federation team would need. "However, I think we need to have some insurance in place in case they decide to screw us over. I don't completely trust them."

"You and me both," Nayib said,moving to sit at his desk. "We have the two of you. I think we need to make a contingency plan just in case."

"How about disabling Deep Space Nine?" Chakotay suggested.

They sat for a moment and then Tuvok nodded. "That would cripple their operations along half the DMZ not having DS9 operational."

"Good idea," Nayib replied considering the operation and what it would take to put into motion.

It was quiet for a moment. Chakotay rose and walked to the window. "We have to do something about the prison in New Mexico. They have Bey and they have the death penalty now." He turned and looked at them with a deeply serious expression on his face. "We can't let anything happen to Bey and the others."

Nayib nodded grimly. "From what Papa said our people on Earth can do something."

"They have to be careful," Chakotay said Tuvok nodding in agreement. "Very, very careful."

"They will be," Nayib replied grimly. "I think they will be very, very careful indeed."

**********Enterprise, Ambassador's cabin...

"Come."

The door opened and Jean-Luc Picard stepped in looking around for the figure he sought. Kolopak stood by the window staring out at the vacuum. He turned, fixing his calm gaze on the man standing before him. "Captain, what brings you to my humble quarters?"

Picard moved to the window, his eyes staring out the window."I would hardly think that an Ambassador's quarters would be 'humble'."

Kolopak shrugged. "A prison is still a prison no matter how fancy the appointments. You haven't answered my question."

"I would like to talk to you."

Kolopak regarded him and nodded, turning to face him. "Shall we be seated or is this interrogation of the more informal variety?"

"I'm not here to interrogate you," Picard said meeting Kolopak's dark gaze evenly.

"Ah," he replied moving to the couch. He paused and turned. "May I be seated?"

"Of course," Picard said slightly off put by the turn in the situation. He moved closer and sat watching as Kolopak finally joined him. They sat across from one another and stared, each sizing the other up. "Are your accommodations comfortable?"

Kolopak nodded. "Much more so than an eight by ten cell."

Picard considered the last ten years of this man's life. "What drives you?"

Kolopak regarded Picard. "Seriously?"

Picard nodded.

"Freedom."

The word hung between them. Kolopak watched Picard noting his serious manner. He leaned forward. "You and I have a shared history don't we," he said softly.

Picard swallowed slightly. "I knew your father."

Kolopak leaned back nodding. "My father told me about you. I was sorry that I wasn't there when you came and did your ... agreement."

"The times were difficult. The Cardassians weren't going to give up. We made the best deal we could."

"For which side? The Federation? The Cardassians?" Kolopak

regarded Picard. "You really couldn't believe that they would hold their agreement."

"We signed in good faith," Picard insisted.

"Whose faith? Yours? The Cardassians? The minute you left they came. They hurt us, Picard. The only good thing was that my father became too sick to know that once again a treaty was just another piece of paper."

Picard sighed softly. "There was little else to do at the time."

"Yes there was," Kolopak rejoined. "You could have discharged your duty for your fellow citizen. You could have kept your promises."

"I was just one man," Picard interjected. "*One* man."

"So was I. So was my father. So are my sons," Kolopak countered. "One man alone." He leaned back regarding Picard levelly. "What are you here for? Absolution? Revenge? What?"

Picard met his gaze, his insides filled with turmoil. "I don't know," he replied finally.

Kolopak watched him, at the obvious struggle and then he leaned forward, interested. "What you want, I can't give you. You want something for Dorvan V. You want something for what you did to us. My father told me that you did what you did to absolve yourself and your family responsibility for an ancestral wrong. It failed didn't it."

Picard considered his words, the truth in them and then he rose, tugging on his tunic as he gathered his emotions together. "If there's anything you need, contact Mr. Riker."

Picard turned and walked to the door, pausing as he got there.

"You want absolution, Picard, and I can't give it to you. Only you can make the wrong things, right," Kolopak said meeting Picard's gaze evenly.

Picard turned and stepped out the door closing silently behind him. The two guards stared at him and he nodded turning and walking down the corridor. Behind him the remembrance of failure followed, guilt and shame for a past that wasn't his fault. His ancestor had done a terrible thing and he was left with the burden to carry. Sometimes knowing your past wasn't a good thing. With a sigh, he turned and continued down the corridor to the lift and beyond that the Bridge.

**********Shift change, Enterprise...

Tom Riker walked to Ten Forward, a spring in his step. He was home where he belonged given different circumstances and he was enjoying the life he had chosen for himself once more. It didn't matter that he was a copy of the original. Everything that Will Riker wanted, desired and sought had been ingrained in him too.

Here on this ship he could live his own life and still serve the people that really mattered, the Maquis. Turning he walked in, scanning the crowd. Sitting in a corner a grin on her pretty face, his ensign waited. Flashing a grin of his own Tom walked to where she sat.

"You look lovely as ever," he said smoothly sitting across from her. She was beautiful, sweet and very smart. In short she was everything he liked in a woman. Headstrong, hard-headed and tough, that was fine too but it was too Troi right now for his tastes. This was his clean slate woman and he settled in for a night of dinner, conversation and sex.

Sitting nearby, nursing a drink of his own, Worf watched with increasing confusion. Troi was Riker's woman that much had been made clear earlyon. Now he was keeping company with another. He didn't understand it. He didn't mind it because the growing attraction to the small Betazoid was as strong as ever in him. He would have to see what was up. With that, he turned back to his drink and the conversation between Data and another crewman.

=0=

Book Sixteen: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

He stretched, his hand going automatically to his neck, feeling the place in which once he had been violated. They had taken the device out of his neck, a deceptively simple thing. The tracking mechanism had been the major component of the implant making up almost all of its size.

After careful study they had re-implanted it in a sheep that had been grazing nearby. It wouldn't harm the animal and in one year it would be gone. However, due to the mechanism's design whoever was tracking Paris wouldn't know that it was no longer in him. There was no room for sensors in its small spare space, only tracking technology.

Janeway sat nearby watching the tall familiar form of one of her favorite people as he stood on the porch looking at the sky. They hadn't talked much, time and circumstances demanding other more pressing attentions. She wasn't sure she wanted to. She did however fill him in on what they were doing and why. They were to spirit Tom away, making sure that he was out of the influence of Earth and her Federation apparatus. His father Owen had come to an agreement with her. She would take him away, remove the implant and help him rejoin the Maquis. Tom would be as safe among them as he would be elsewhere. Taking him elsewhere was out of the question. Owen knew Tom would never go to neutral turf like the Klingon Empire.

So in the interests of saving his son he let him go, praying that no one would harm him and this whole sordid mess would end sooner rather than later. All he asked in return was for her to wait, biding her time among the Maquis -if they took her in- and tell him what he needed to facilitate a clean and final solution to the war.

Owen Paris wanted it over. His son's life was at stake. His honor and the honor of the thing he loved Star Fleet, was being compromised by politicians that didn't seem to care about much beyond their power trips and personal political fiefdoms. She would be his inside man and he would try and utilize what she could tell him in the upcoming negotiations. It was worth a shot since nothing else looked fruitful. Of this he was certain.

She had agreed, her own ambivalence about nearly everything except her perception of betrayal bottomless in its depth. She would get back to Maquis HQ and fight for her inclusion. She would see about her crew, the Sorrel Bay and a place for herself. Somehow, she had to be a part of what was happening.

Would she be an advantage or a detriment to the Maquis even she couldn't decide. She just knew that she *had* to be some where in the fray. With a sigh she listened with half a mind as the men sitting at the table received the information that Tom Riker had gotten from Kolopak. It had been routed to them through the Maquis comm relay and would help them plan the one thing they had to do before they left the planet.

They had to blow the prison.

She smiled slightly. Even Owen Paris was unaware of this little twist to their travel plans.

**********Crazy Horse...

He wiped his face with a towel, tossing it aside. His cabin was in need of sprucing up and he made a mental note to clean it up. Later. When he cared. Turning, he walked to the bedroom eying his bed with less than gratitude. He ached with fatigue, the meeting with Nayib and Tuvok running long. He had grabbed a quick bite and retired here to his cabin. He was weary and needed rest but it was hard to be alone.

He glanced at the cube next to the bed, the smiling face of his lover ... scratch that. The smiling face of the man he longed for greeting him. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what it was like when that handsome man was here annoying and teasing him, making him feel just that much more alive.

He moved to sit and then he laid back, his muscles aching as he stretched out. He sighed and closed his eyes once again conjuring a memory of smooth white skin and a softly taunting voice. Much of what Tom represented to him, the idea of him was fading. He spent time alone thinking over the days in the Delta when they were making their way home, the times that they had been together having a laugh, being together comfortably... it was wonderful.

But it was fading.

He knew it was from stress and distance. Word hadn't arrived that Tom was out and safe yet. Knowing he was going to be soon was as bad as knowing he was still confined. It was anxiety that he could ill afford. His father had appeared on the screen of Nayib's shuttle, captive on the Enterprise. Other than being more gray and older, his father was the same. It had taken his most ironcontrol to keep from doing something rash. He was aware that they had Bey as collateral on their father's loan. He sighed and rubbed his chest idly wondering in some small abstract way what it would feel like with someone else doing that. With their lips.

Tom.

He sighed and closed his eyes pushing against the restless waves of his mind as he sought sleep. It would be a long time coming.

**********Late evening...

She stood on the porch, the stars above twinkling in familiar formations. She heard the noise behind her but she didn't acknowledge it.

"They're as beautiful as I remember too."

"I think so," Kathryn agreed. "I never thought we'd ever see them."

"I sort of hoped we never would. I was afraid that we would live to regret it." Tom moved to stand next to her his lanky figure leaning against a porch railing.

Kathryn sighed. "I wanted different."

"We all did. I'm sure none of us expected this."

"I was sorry after a while. I was really sorry for making the decision to strand us. I worked extra hard, extra long trying to make it happen from sheer force of will." She paused rubbing her chin. "It didn't happen. Every time someone died I think a bit of me did too. We were there because of my decision. We were there because I chose to remain a Star Fleet officer following Star Fleet rules. What a fool I was," she said recrimination in her voice.

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time, Kathryn. How did we know it would turn out the way it did?"

"Maybe we didn't," she agreed, "but the burden is mine alone. A captain makes decisions, looks among choices for the right path to take. The consequences of those decisions are hard to bear sometimes. They tell you about it at school. You see it for other captains on the ships you train but when it's your decision that costs lives, lives entrusted to you it's difficult in a very fundamentally hard way to explain. I have many, many regrets."

Tom sighed and looked at the moon full and round and bright and nodded. "Don't we all."

She looked at him studying his handsome profile. "You sound defeated."

"No. Just tired of things happening that include me without asking."

"You want out?"

He gazed at her, at her pale and determined face. "No."

"Good," she replied turning back to the desert beyond them. "We're going to need a good pilot."

"So we get lucky and spring everyone. What then?"

"We run for it. Long and far," she replied her voice iron. She hesitated unsure of her next words and then she stilled resolving that issue inside. Turning, she stared measuring his mettle. "You have to get to the Maquis."

"My father ..."

"He's set you free. It's the only place you'll be safe."

Tom stared at her trying to reconcile her words with the reality that had always been his life. It was too painful. He nodded turning his eyes to the moon once more. "It's a beautiful sight, our moon," he whispered. "It's there watching over us."

"I never believed we would see it but I never gave up. Not for a moment." She paused. "It gives me so little comfort I'm surprised."

He glanced at her and nodded. "I know what you mean," he replied quietly.

They stood together a long time without speaking as all around them the shadows of moonlight lit the desert and the mountains beyond.

**********Maquis land...

It was very early in the morning when the word reached Nayib. He was awakened by a call, the beeping sound penetrating his tired mind. He turned, moving Tabor off his chest and pressed the comm button. "Nayib."

"The package is retrieved."

Nayib thought a moment and then smiled. "Thanks. Nayib out."

He lay back and sighed considering the relief that Chakotay would feel knowing that Tom was free of The Briars. Tabor sighed beside him sleeping without a hitch naked, beautiful and exhausted. The workload had increased as they began plans for the conference. He had sent word through channels that the terms of meeting were acceptable.

The Federation via Enterprise had replied agreeing to the inclusion of Kolopak in the proceedings. That made things just that much more palatable. Meeting with people he hated as much as he hated the Federation High Council would be easier with his father's soothing presence. Sighing and rubbing his eyes he rose and sat on the edge of the bed. Tabor raised his head his tired eyes searching around. "Nayib?"

Nayib leaned down and planted a soft kiss in the center of Tabor's lower back. The younger man settled down sighing. He kissed his way up Tabor's back, the Bajoran sighing with pleasure. "What's up?"

Nayib asked. "Besides my dick?"

Tabor smiled. "Yeah."

Nayib grinned. "I'm going to tell Chakotay that Tom is out of the nut house and safe."

Tabor turned his head and watched as Nayib rose, pulling on clothes. "That's good news," Tabor said, yawning loudly.

"I can see you're overcome with the magnitude of it yourself," Nayib said, chuckling. "Go to sleep."

"Not until you get back," Tabor replied pulling Nayib's pillow into his arms.

"I'll be back in a moment," Nayib said leaning down and kissing Tabor's cheek.

"Hurry," Tabor said his eyes drifting shut.

Nayib grinned and turned, walking out the door and into the corridor of his apartment building. It was quiet and he walked outside, pausing to fill his lungs with fresh air. It was quiet and he felt good, revived a bit. His driver stood beside the car and he nodded, entering it. The car drove off and all was still again.

That is except for the figure in the shadows watching him leave.

**********Crazy Horse...

The chime took a while to penetrate Chakotay's sleep deprived mind. He blinked his eyes and called out. "Come."

For a moment there was only the hiss of the door release and then Nayib appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, wine bottle in hand and pleased grin plastered on his face. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he said, moving to the bed and planting himself. He pulled the cork out and took a big drink, swallowing the wine with a slight grimace. He looked at the label and handed it to Chakotay who was scooting back to sit up. "Nice vintage. Give a wine a week and it will never let you down."

Chakotay snorte grinning as he accepted the bottle. "A week, huh?"

"Give or take a few hours," Nayib replied. He watched Chakotay take a big drink, his face crumpling as he swallowed it down.

"Nothing like a good merlo to shake your testicles up a bit. Speaking of testicles, Chakotay, I have some good news for you."

Chakotay looked at him, at his big smile and shining eyes and knew before he said it. He licked his lips and took another deep swig. Handing the bottle to his brother, he leaned back against the headboard.

"You did it," Chakotay said visions of Tom filling his mind as he considered his deep emotional relief. "You did it, Nayib."

"That's right," Nayib said preening with pleasure over his brother's lightened mood. "Did you have any doubt?"

Chakotay looked at him, a grin spreading slowly over his face.

"Actually ..."

Nayib snorted and took a deep swig from the bottle in his hand. He held it out and Chakotay took it. Nayib stood and pulled a chair next to the bed. Sitting, he propped his feet up and sighed with satisfaction. "You're a shit, Chakotay, but you're my brother. I think a few drinks and some talk are in order here. It's a pretty small celebration but I'm feeling very sincere tonight."

Chakotay laughed and relaxed his body, tension melting away as he considered that Tom was finally free. "So am I, Nubby," he replied softly. Glancing over at his brother, he grinned. "I'm feeling pretty damned sincere myself."

"Good," Nayib said holding out his hand. "Pass over the bottle."

Chakotay did and for the next hour they sat talking and sipping wine as the evening slowly turned into the day.

=0=

Book Sixteen: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

The sun was harsh and they moved in lines toward the shelter of the prison proper. It was high summer and the heat would be unbearable for weeks to come. They would be getting up to work in the late evening, working beneath the overhead lights and retiring by midmorning. Bey sighed as they entered the gate changing from neat and orderly lines into a slowly moving mass of men. Beyond them were showers and cool basins of water. They would refresh themselves before eating. After that it would be a long day of rest and limited pursuits before the day would happen all over again.

He moved to the showers, stripping his tunic and trousers off. Stepping into cool water, he cleaned himself, listening with only half an ear to the conversations around him. As he finished he toweled off, moving toward his cell and the clean clothes that waited. Beyond him, watching him as he moved guards in towers monitored the situation. They were in all four corners of the big compound, ever watching. He entered his cell and dropped his towel pulling on clothes and sandals. His father was on the Enterprise, god only knew what was happening and he was hungry. Such was his circumscribed life.

There were few diversions here, limited allowed activity and he found himself either dozing or playing chess most days. A card game or two was diverting but mostly he found himself resting. Around him some of the men had paired up finding in each other's bodies relief from the endless years of isolation and boredom. He wondered about Nayib and Chakotay. He wondered about their life in the DMZ. The grapevine was everywhere and he found out bits and pieces of what was happening but he had no clear picture. He just knew they were still free. That mattered.

A lot.

He turned and walked out moving past a couple talking together intimately. He sighed, the pulse of desire that flashed through him startling. He had been here a while without the company of a woman and it felt bad. He had kept company with a quiet sweet woman back in Maquis country, a widow from a frontier planet who had two children. She was a computer expert and they had come together over business. He missed her, her calming influence. He quashed the image of her pretty face and continued toward the mess hall. Soon he would be fed and heading out to the covered and cool common area where they waited out the day together.

Soon it would be dark and they would head out again, moving to the fields and irrigation projects beyond. Another day would begin once more.

**********In another place...

Wesley watched the guards beyond the barrier, talking together as they spent their shift. It was deeply boring here, the routine of confinement never changing. They sat in their compound, surrounded by nearly impenetrable security. He had spent most of his time with Geordi, working their way through escape plans that led to nothing. The Maquis security was intense. All of their plans were falling short of the reality of camp life. He knew that they would probably be here until liberation.

Whenever that came.

Turning, he gazed across the camp noting Sorrel Bay people mingled with others. Many ships had made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time or on the losing end of a battle. Their crews were here, some of them for a very long time. Over time they had become complacent, content almost to sit and wait out the battle that was beyond their reach. Many had found relationships and there were two hierarchies of leadership here in the camp.

One was Star Fleet and it was lead by a captain, whose ship had been overrun five years before. They maintained Star Fleet discipline and they kept the rules in order. The other group was a civilian organization led by a shady creature named Holt. He was a gunrunner that had double-crossed the Maquis and when they had captured him at last they had whipped him and branded his forehead with a hot iron.

Needless to say his organization had less to do with reasonable discipline and more to do with struggling to achieve dominance in the limited confines of the camp. It made him on edge and he made sure he was seldom alone. Outside the camp people went about their business and he could see in the distance the town that was home base for the resistance. Down below the rise people worked and lived. Up here they merely got along. It would be a long confinement and he fervently hoped the war would end soon.

**********Maquis HQ...

Nayib mulled over the plans for the prison breakout. The layout was simple. Three sides were fortified and the desert side wasn't.

Much.

They would make their move there, taking the camp from the hot desert, dismaying their security and moving people out to awaiting shuttles. They had enough operatives inside Earth's boundaries already and they would move more. Sorrel Bay would coordinate that aspect of the mission. They would fly to Earth cloaked and wait, spiriting away the prisoners at a coordinated point in the desert. It would be risky and tough but they had confidence that their technology was superior to the Federation's. They would also landmine some sites here and there and set them off. The damage would be minor but the panic major.

Tuvok would plan and coordinate the retrieval.

Chakotay would be here working with him on the plan to go to Khitomer. Once they were there he would shadow the process staying outside the ring of non-interference as they worked on the planet below for peace.

The sensors of the prison had to be compromised and he considered the simplicity of the plan to do that. There were three power stations supplying the energy for the southwest region of the former United States. The grid that supplied the camp was a part of that feed. Since the stations themselves were too highly secure, the relays that routed power would be targeted. Once those were blown, the back up system at the camp would switch on in less than two seconds. That would be targeted by shuttle. Of course, the sensors would have to be denied, their effectiveness cut short by a shower of metallic strips dropped on the camp in a quick fly over by the shuttle that would then turn and target the standby power generators to the north of the prisoner barracks.

Teams of Maquis, heavily armed and dressed in black would then emerge from the desert and rush the camp trading on the blindness of the command structure. Without generators, the fences would come down, the communications system would fail and they would be able to move on the installation with the element of surprise. Groups of Maquis had trained since before the capture of Beyvahl, working out with the details Chakotay had brought back all the steps that had to be taken. The addition of Kolopak's intelligence had been invaluable. The operation would take fifteen minutes to thirty minutes tops and then they would all pull back moving into the desert where Liberty would transport them out of the area.

A number of the prisoners would be dispersed, moving to safe houses established by Tom Riker's people. They would be held there until they could be smuggled off the planet. As it was the Maquis leadership, several prisoners with failing health and a core group of Voyager crew would be making the trip back to the DMZ.

Nayib sighed and considered the probability that one or all the components would fail. Such was the chances they were taking. But the payoff would be huge, the power shifting toward them. The only unknown was what this would mean to his father. Would the Federation make an example of him in their astonishment? He didn't know. He didn't dare think about it. It was too frightening to consider. Turning instead, he began to work on the multiple tasks-at-hand his partnership with Tabor comforting as they worked through the padds stacked on his desk.

**********On the Enterprise...

Kolopak sat on the couch sipping his wine. Tom Riker had just left apprising him of the operation that was going to take place in three days. The camp would be a thing of the past and his son would be safe. That would be the best news of all. Riker had recruited frontier people with deep ties to the Maquis to work in his businesses. They were many and varied, with access all over the quadrant to places most people couldn't go. Riker had become a fixture in high circles of finance and power and he had made many, many connections.

They had a plan that required pinpoint execution and he knew that they had trained for it, the Maquis morphing into something more than it had been in the rag-tag days of the beginning. There were more military people involved and there was more help. Riker was only one of many people on the outside who were with them in their struggle. This would be a precision operation but he had faith. Once he heard that his son was free he would be glad. What came after that didn't matter. He would be at Khitomer and they would have to deal.

Pure and simple.

He grinned slightly. It never was that pure and simple. It was never a factor but they had to do what they must he considered. It was all they could do.

**********In the desert...

The shuttle sat in a bunker dug in the ground. It couldn't be detected. They had installed dampening equipment to shield it from the random flyovers from the air base in Colorado Springs. It was filled with containers set to explode five seconds after ejection. Inside each drum were strips of a special metallic fiber that were designed to confuse sensing devices.

Tom noted the sleek lines, the lack of markings and knew it was stolen. He had familiarized himself with its controls since he knew he would be the one flying low over the camp dispersing them into the sensor grid. Kathryn would be with him manning the weapons systems and they would provide cover to the commando teams that would be swarming the camp three minutes after the dropping of the contaminants. They would then turn and target the power plants that would act as back ups. By then the power grid for the whole region would be down.

People would be hurrying into the desert and he would have to pin down the towers taking them out and making sure that the retreating group would be covered. It was doable he thought, certainly doable and he considered the steps that would come after the operation. He would fly the shuttle to a rendezvous point above Earth and they would be beamed aboard the cloaked Liberty. The shuttle then would be set to self-destruct. Nothing would remain of it for investigators.

The people that would be taken away would be beamed aboard and the Liberty would break out of the Sol system as fast and as stealthily as possible. The rest of the prisoners would be taken to safe places until it would be possible to move them away. He turned and walked back to the house stepping inside and walking to the doorway to the kitchen. Inside were gathered groups of men who would be leading the ground assault. Nearby, concealed on the edge of the desert teams of commandos were dug in waiting for the word.

It all would happen in two days.

He turned and walked to the porch once more staring at the waning sunshine. It had turned the sky orange and purple, colors that illuminated the beauty of the mountains. Chakotay's mother had been from this area, this beauty and quiet region. He wondered what was happening to her, to Chakotay, to Chakotay's father. He wondered what was happening back at the DMZ, at ground zero of the struggle. He wondered what was happening with Chakotay.

**********At the Crazy Horse...

They boarded and shoved off, the Liberty having left days earlier. She was heading for her destiny at Earth to liberate their friends, colleagues and family members. Crazy Horse was off to shadow the negotiations hoping to find in the process some way to retrieve Kolopak. Of course, the others didn't know that. Retrieving Kolopak was Chakotay's private crusade. He was sure that Nayib wouldn't object if he made it happen but he didn't want to complicate things by asking permission.

They moved out, the shuttle that would take the delegation into Khitomer safe in their hold. At a safe distance they would launch her and she would carry their people onward toward the conference. Crazy Horse would stay nearby monitoring silently the comings and goings of the ships that would be joining them.

They would also have one more added advantage. The night before heavily encrypted and couched on the back of the Federation Network News feed that routinely made it into Maquis territory a message from Tom Riker was received. Contained in its text was the frequency for the Federation ships that would be at Khitomer. Now they would be there unseen listening in on every word they spoke.

They would have the high court advantage.

Chakotay sighed and settled back watching the familiar star field disappear as they moved into the night. In two days it would all happen. It was now in the hands of the gods.

=0=


	17. Chapter 17

=0=

Book Seventeen: Nuclear Winter 1/4

=0=

It was quiet in the desert the stars overhead silent companions. It was cooler, the breeze drying the sweat on their faces as they moved within eyesight of the compound beyond. The desert absorbed the sound of their feet, the hollow crunch of boots on sand dull and hollow. They were on the least protected side, the one that faced the deep desert. On three sides were hills, shrub covered and foreboding, roads that led to dry sharp mountains.

The towns were far away beyond the security zone and to get there would require much laborious walking and climbing. On their side lay the anvil of the desert, a forge of heat and endless waste hardly the easiest place to make a break out. They settled in, one of several commando groups that had been gathering for a period of weeks. They had trained in the hills, running through simulations until they could enter and raid the camp with their eyes closed. The information they had received was detailed and each group had their specific goals and objectives. It would be signaled as beginning with the illumination of a flare dropped from the sky by one of two shuttles. One would fly low and fast, just under the sensor net until it pulled up over the camp. It would drop the sensor particles and then pull away.

Hopefully, just before that instant teams at two main power relay stations would make their move. Charges would be detonated and they would go up in fiery balls of light. The grid that powered and protected the camp, her communications and her fences would go down and they would go in, taking their objectives in minutes in the confusion.

One by one, they would secure the site and gather people, sorting them into two groups, one to leave for the DMZ and the other to go to safe destinations for further processing. They would move through the desert to safety, hopefully over in less than thirty minutes. It would be fast, brutal and uncompromising. It would be Maquis all the way. They settled and waited, listening to the night animals as they moved about nearby. Soon it would be as bright as day and the action would begin under the glare of phosphorescent light. Soon they would be melting back into the night, their charges with them and no one would be able to follow.

If it all went as planned of course.

**********At the safe house...

Tom watched as groups of hard-faced men and women came and went, moving from the desert and back again. Tonight was the night. Tonight, they would make the break out and then he would be on his way back to the DMZ. He knew the negotiations would be beginning on Khitomer. He knew that this break out would be covered up. No one would be told about this, it would be that politically devastating.

He was sure that they would have total surprise. Conventional wisdom would insist that the Maquis would *never* do something like this when they were in negotiations would they? He grinned slightly stepping down from the porch. It was warm and he felt it through the cotton of his shirt. He had lost weight and his clothes fit loosely covering his lanky frame with his usual casual elegance. Walking down the short path, he paused before the bunker that sheltered the shuttle he would fly. He had gone over it familiarizing himself. In under an hour they would be getting ready to go.

He sighed breathing deeply the pungent smell of desert, creosote and sage. It smelled good, strong and arid. He loved the desert, the quiet and the timelessness of it. It was passive the desert simulating his own temperament once. He had let things happen, often standing in the path of chaos waiting for it to hit him like a gale-force wind. Buffeting took the place of thinking, pain took the place of feeling and he would take it absorbing it, riding it to its usual hideous conclusion.

That had been then.

Now? He was a different man. The Delta had seen to that. If he hadn't gone, if he hadn't been with Voyager he was sure he would be dead. He had grown up there nurtured by diverse people who loved, hated or tolerated him. Mostly they had become friends.

Friends. He had made friends there, people who valued him for himself not what they could maneuver out of him because he was Owen Paris' son. That was new. That was powerful and it was the biggest forge for change in his heart. He had friends, real honest-to-god friends. Now they needed him, these people that he loved and he knew he would do whatever it took to help them. He would fly better than he ever had, work harder and more intensely than ever and even die if he had to. It was his nature to give completely when committed to something. It had been his way all along.

Committed. That was a new concept and he had learned it in the crucible of the Delta. He had learned it in relation to his work and he had learned it in relation to his life. He had committed himself to B'Elanna and he had felt that this relationship was the one. It had certainly been that way in his mind. At least until the Vedek happened. Passive, aggressive ... happened, happening, hapless ...

Then Chakotay happened as well.

He sighed deeply, the pungent fragrance of the desert soothing. Chakotay. He thought about him almost constantly. It was an ache in his gut that was never still. The older man was an enigma, someone deciphered slowly through experience and conversation. He had taunted Chakotay a lot, messing with him, teasing and cajoling him and they had alot of emotional moments together. He could recount each one, the expressions on Chakotay's handsome face filling his mind as he considered them. He was a solid man, his commander but his face registered his pain, his joy, his aggravation like a barometer does the weather. Each emotion was painted on it, broad strokes across his face and Tom could remember them.

He sighed again. Chakotay had told him he loved him, that he had for a long time. He had wanted him, wanting to touch him and Tom was sure that had he not gone with Bey they would have been together by now. He closed his eyes and considered that, considered what it would mean giving himself to the older man.

He knew that they would be good together, that the sensations he would feel would be powerful, even magnified. It would change his life. He considered the pivot points that his life had already taken. They had marked him, moving him forward toward what he now was and the man that once filled his frame, the scared, arrogant and addicted boy was a long gone memory.

All he wanted now was a life. He had come to that conclusion in the solitude of The Briars. He had thought about his life, his priorities and his dreams. He wanted a stable relationship, someone to depend on and love him for what and who he was. That path had been trod once and it lay in ruins around his feet. It had been the dream he had thought he had attained with B'Elanna and when it fell apart he had too. For a while. Then Chakotay materialized out of thin air and surrounded him with compassion.

The warmth had suffused him and he was filled with the quiet strength of his passion. It had permeated every corner and when they did touch each other, it was almost more than he could assimilate. He had to return. He had to go back and see if this was as real as it felt. When he got back he would go to Chakotay and they would talk. After they took care of other things. With a sigh he turned and walked back to the house. It was T-minus three hours and counting.

**********Far away...

He sat at the center of his ship in the command chair that had never been his until they returned and he considered the days ahead. They would shadow the shuttle once they launched it and by the time they had reached the secure zone for Khitomer they would hang back and monitor things. He would scan the ships that came and went especially the military ones and they would build their plans as circumstances dictated.

Communiques from Enterprise heavily encrypted on the backs of FNN broadcasts had told him of their successes so far. Tom Riker would be visiting a number of the ships that would be there supporting the Federation. He would be leaving small devices that would monitor each one sending cryptic messages to their code computer. They would be able to find out alot of things this way. Tom Riker had been a real asset. He had never met the man, learning of his plight through friends that had survived camps with him. They had followed him into his business when he came back determined to become someone to reckon with. He had come to admire his steely nerve, his devotion to the cause and his genuine faith in the future of their battle. He believed it enough to put himself into the center of the enemy camp and that took guts. Chakotay looked forward to meeting him.

He rose and walked to the conn standing for a moment with Rick Batehart. The 'Fleet pilot had stayed preferring to take his chances with Voyager than with the Federation. His gambler instinct that something wasn't right had paid off and given a choice, he stayed. "How soon until we launch the shuttle?"

"An hour, Chakotay," he replied glancing up at his captain.

Chakotay nodded. "Call me when you get forty-five minutes out."

Rick nodded and Chakotay turned walking across the Bridge to his office beyond. It was quiet when he got there, one of the perks of his rank and he sat at the desk tiredly. The cube was there replicated from the original and he stared at Tom's face smiling out at him from a frame.

"Where are you?" he asked softly moving to lean his elbows on the desk. "Where are you hiding now, baby?" He was aware that communications would not be broken until they made their way off Earth. There would be a window in which the signal would be sent and no sooner. If it didn't come, they wouldn't be coming either. It was that simple. "Come home," he said simply taking the cube in his hand. The smiling face of the only person he could ever love just stared at him illuminated with life and a saucy sense of humor. He wished he could touch it in the worst way. With a sigh he put it down and turned staring out the window as the star fields rushed past.

**********Enterprise...

They pulled into the zone falling into the wide orbital path that would put them into Khitomer's sphere of influence without compromising the zone of non-interference that had been agreed. They would send a shuttle with Picard, himself and Kolopak into the city every day of the meetings. Other diplomats would be coming in the same way from other Federation ships that had been arriving for two days. There was a lot of firepower here Picard thought as he stood beside the navigator. There would only be a Maquis shuttle carrying their team arriving but everyone understood that some place close by would be the cloaked ships. They had made no progress toward solving that conundrum. Federation knowledge of Borg technology was nearly nil and the rest of it, an amalgamation of Klingon and Delta Quadrant species no doubt led them in circles of confusion.

Will Riker had been leading that task force combined with other Federation units and they were as stymied now as they had been the first time they had encountered their rogue enemies. It was damned frustrating. The lift door opened and Riker stepped onto the Bridge. He walked to Picard, smiling at him as he nodded. "We're in orbit and there is a meeting on the Derry Lane. I expect that we'll be there a while. The commanders here will be going over the situation as it stands in regard to the cloaked ships. I expect that will hold our attention for a part of this stayover."

Riker nodded relishing the opportunity to hear more than they could anticipate ever giving away. "I want you to accompany me. After that, I would like you to make the customary courtesy calls on the other ships. I have been told that I will be a party to the negotiations."

Riker nodded. "And the prisoner?"

"He'll come with me. Right now, I think having him is a big mistake. It inflames an already difficult situation."

Riker nodded. "I agree. I think it was a bad idea to bring the one person that these people will rally around and make him a martyr in an already emotional situation."

"Ours is not to reason why, Number One," Picard said with a sigh.

Riker smiled, the pleasure of Picard's company -pleasure denied to him by nothing more than fate- washed through him. It had been a long time since they had confided in each other, like they had on this journey and even though Tom was not the one that had been given this life, it was his too.

"I'll make arrangements to do the courtesy calls, Captain. Would you like me to say anything in particular?"

Picard mused a moment and then turned, a slight smile on his face. "Heads up, Number One," he said bemusedly. "Heads up."

Riker only smiled.

**********At the launch point...

They hovered at the edge of a nebula, the energy of its peripheral preventing scanning of their operation. They walked from the lift to the hangar deck, noting that the shuttle was in readiness. Nayib turned and extended his hand to his silent brother. Chakotay gazed at it and then moved, embracing Nayib tightly in his arms. Nayib hugged him back, holding him in his big bear grip. Tabor, accompanying Nayib to the meetings, waited quietly. Nayib squeezed Chakotay tightly and stepped back, nodding silently.

Behind him, dressed in leathers, were Gregor Ayala and two 'Fleet Voyager crewmen. They were accompanying the party as security. Nayib would be doing the negotiations along with a tall Vulcan woman, T'Lau, a member of the Revolutionary Committee famed for her expertise in Federation laws and treaties. They would be the Maquis delegation. Smaller was indeed better.

Nayib squeezed Chakotay's arm and turned, walking with his party to the shuttle. Chakotay stepped back, nodding to Tabor as he turned and waved from the door. Tabor turned and stepped in, the door sliding shut behind him. Chakotay watched as the shuttle powered up and the ship lifted up, moving slowly to the opening door of the bay. Chakotay watched it disappear, his mind filled with prayers for his brother and the others of the party.

For a moment he stood silently alone and then he turned, walking to the door and the lift beyond. In seconds he would be back at the Bridge, sitting in his chair as they followed the ship at a discreet distance. He watched his brother disappearing into the star field ahead and he could feel the constriction of anxiety that had become his constant companion. He wondered idly what it would feel like to not have that omnipresent knot in his gut. He sighed and pushed that back from his conscious mind. He had a lot of other things to worry about right now. His own personal problems would come later when there was more time to think. Right now, everything depended upon him. Turning in his seat, he caught Harry's eye. "What's our status, Harry? Has anyone picked up on us yet?"

"No. They appear to be holding to the sensor ban agreement. I think we'll run into them shortly as we approach Khitomer."

"What's the status on Liberty?"

"She's five by five, Captain," Harry said, glancing over

at Tactical. The officer there nodded.

"Good," Chakotay said. "Keep me informed on any changes."

"Aye, sir," Harry said, bending over his console once more. Chakotay sighed and considered the status of their mission so far. It was go. Then he wondered once again where Tom was and how he was and if he would ever see him again. It would be a tense afternoon waiting for the word from Nayib. A long and tense afternoon.

=0=

Book Seventeen: Nuclear Winter 2/4

=0=

Tabor sat in the extra pilot seat and watched as Nayib flew the shuttle onward. Sitting in the back, idly talking to themselves, the four other passengers were occupied amongst each other. Tabor sighed, settling back. "What do you think will happen when we get there?"

"They'll either shoot us, lock us up or talk."

"You're encouraging," Tabor replied, a slow grin forming on his handsome face.

"I know. I am to a fault," Nayib replied glancing with a grin at his lover.

They had spent half the night talking covering territory that Tabor thought he would never venture back over. He told of his life, of the Cardassian occupation of his home world and the endless losses that such an event left behind. He was alone, there was no one else and without Nayib, he would have no confidant, no opportunity to think beyond the end of each day. Sitting on the couch in the small apartment they where they lived, Nayib had told him of his father, of his pain for the thought of Kolopak's supposed death and the horror of his brother Beyvahl's belief that he had allowed their father to die.

It was a torturous road they traveled and by the time they staggered off to bed, they had made a connection to each other that had been building from the first time they met. When the show was over and the next phase of their existence began they would do it together just like now.

"You worried?" Tabor asked searching Nayib's handsome face for a clue to the placid-appearing man's inner situation.

"I always worry with the Federation. They have ..." he paused and considered for a moment. "They don't have the same passion we do, the same goals, the same drives. I fear someone who fights for just politics. They stop seeing people as individuals and see them as stakes, chips, something to use or not. That got us here in the first place the idea that we could just pick up and leave, as if our love for our worlds has less meaning than somebody from Earth or Vulcan. I worry about people who can't give to me what I would give to them, a basic belief in their humanity."

Tabor sighed and rested his hand on Nayib's leg. He squeezed gently. "I love you," he said simply.

Nayib nodded and sighed. "I know," he replied the inner turmoil of this moment flowing through him like a shock wave of little needles.

**********At the hangar...

Tom sat and went through the pre-flight checking out the ship from stem to stern. They would not be able to move out of the underground hardened bunker yet, the signal that the energy grid was down had not been received. It was dark and everyone at the house had long gone heading for their pre-planned places of concealment, the area falling silent once more. It had been good to see them go. Tom didn't want to see their faces too well. God knew how many of them would die tonight such were the fortifications of a Federation prison. Who knew that better than him? She sat at the fire control area, her hands moving over the console. "May I ask you a question?"

She glanced up, her intensely dark eyes unreadable. "You may ask," she answered cryptically.

He paused and then nodded. "Why are you here? I never took you for the revolutionary type."

She thought a moment her hands and eyes focused on the instruments before her. "I don't like liars."

Tom noted the hard tone in her voice, the stern set of her jaw and nodded. Turning, he stared out the window to the desert just beyond the end of the bunker. "I know what you mean," he answered his voice soft with unspoken thoughts.

At that moment a flicker in the light at the house caught their eyes and they watched as the building fell into darkness. A light on the console of the ship signaled that the grid was down and Tom looked at it with satisfaction as the old adrenaline began to flow into his veins. He half turned and glanced at her meeting her gaze evenly. She nodded and he turned back, his fingers flying over the console. With skill and style, he lifted the ship up and they moved forward over the top of the house and upward to the level just below the sensor net. If there had been a problem it would afford them just that much more anonymity and the element of surprise. As they rose in the air Tom felt lighter with each meter they flew. He sighed and concentrated pushing other thoughts out of his mind. "Showtime," he whispered as they wheeled off into the night.

**********Enterprise...

He stood by the window dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a white shirt. His gray hair, long and streaked with white was pulled back, smoothed and gathered into a band at his neck. He was handsome and elegant, the epitome of a learned man and a gentleman. He stood and watched the stars as their ship circled in a huge elliptical orbit around the planet of Khitomer. Soon he would be down there sitting in a meeting with his son. Nayib would pretend to be Beyvahl. He smiled glad to have preserved their anonymity in the guise of living a simpler life than the rest of the human race. There was very little evidence of who they were outside of biographical information found in the general databases here and there.

Images were sacred to his people and so he safeguarded the pictures of his family hiding them at the time of crisis lest the Federation use them to track down his children. They never found them obviously or they would have known that the man they would deal with was not the man they thought he was. Nayib was his second child, the son after the firstborn son. He was a big man just like all his boys were and because of his amusing temperament usually misjudged as a light weight.

At first.

Kolopak had watched Nayib grow up, becoming a formidable

intellect and a daring and nervy individual. Where Beyvahl was reasonable and more like him Nayib was bold and brave, emotional and deceptively serious like his mother. Maria was a chameleon of emotions ranging from light to dark and back again in the blink of an eye. She was the rudder that steered their family ship.

He himself was a dreamer, someone chasing knowledge for the pleasure of knowing. He knew himself very well, a sense of comfort in his own skin one of the most notable aspects of his own personality. That was an aspect of Beyvahl and Nayib that pleased him also. The lack of it in Chakotay had always worried and disconcerted him, making their relationship a long and rocky road.

He wanted his children to have their own personalities and goals, their own dreams and hopes and paths. Of course, that was a good goal but sometimes when you watched them stumble or even walk away, it was hard not to step in and take over. He had done that with Chakotay for a long time and when they had gone to the rainforest to chase his own dream he had hoped his son would find value in the solidity of who they were as a people. He had hoped that being with his son albeit in the company of some of his students as well would bring them together over the chasm of Chakotay's dreams.

It hadn't.

He sighed and moved closer to the window, noting the condensation of his breath against the cool pane. It had been a disaster and he had felt the pain of his own failure and the frustration of his ambitions for his boy for a long time. Chakotay had left them, moving off into the technical world and even though Kolopak had been pleased with his son's evident skills as a Star Fleet officer and leader of men, he had missed him. Kolopak had missed Chakotay. Very much.

He turned at the sound of the door his dark intense eyes catching those of Tom Riker. He relaxed slightly a small smile playing across his handsome face. Riker walked to the window grinning broadly as he paused beside the older man. "You look dapper. Are you ready?"

Kolopak grinned broadly. "No."

Riker snickered shaking his head. "Neither am I. However duty calls, my lord." He made a mock bow and Kolopak shook his head his smile firmly in place. "Too bad you aren't the Federation president. We could have concluded this business years ago."

Riker nodded as they walked to the door. It opened and two armed men appeared. Stepping between them they turned and walked to the lift which would take them to the hangar deck and the planetary conference beyond. Picard had already left meeting with the delegation that included Owen Paris. It would begin in an hour and by the time it did Tom Riker would be on his second ship planting his second scanning device in a non-descript place on board.

**********On the shuttle...

They came into view of the planet their sensors detecting a small flotilla of ships that were in huge elliptical orbits around the planet where the meeting would take place. Nayib signaled the conference clearance arriving immediately and they flew in, trepidation in their hearts even as they evinced fearlessness on their faces. Flying through the atmosphere Nayib moved to land the ship at a special landing zone that was attached to the big building that housed the conference center. He shut things down and then they rose quietly gathering themselves together as they paused before leaving.

"No matter what happens we show no fear. We are representing our people, all of our people out here -dead and alive- and it all falls to us," Nayib said nodding to the door. The guards turned and walked rifles slung over their shoulders. The door opened and they stepped out followed by T'Lau. Tabor turned to go but was stopped by Nayib's hand on his arm. He turned and was gathered into Nayib's embrace. They stood together silently for a moment and then Nayib kissed Tabor passionately. "I love you," he whispered, looking at Tabor with emotion. "No matter what happens, you are the one."

Tabor nodded and hugged Nayib tightly. "You too. I love you, Nayib. Don't let them hurt you."

"Beyvahl," Nayib said gently correcting Tabor's words. Tabor nodded and looked up at him, his eyes shining with tears. "Kick their ass," he said emotionally.

Nayib smiled and nodded brushing tears from Tabor's cheeks. The younger man gathered himself together and then turned leading the way off the shuttle Nayib behind him closely. They stepped out into the diffuse light of an overcast day. It smelled like rain on the tarmac, the sight of many shuttles lining the runway unsettling. They bore a number of different markings signaling the broad range of interest that everyone had in the proceedings.

A man stepped forward bearing the markings of a military leader. Beside him, looking pale and intense the Federation Vice President stood. The military man looked at Nayib intensely measuring him mentally and then held out his hand. "My name is Admiral Owen Paris."

Nayib looked at him, at the father of his brother's lover. He nodded and held out his own hand. "I am Beyvahl of Dorvan V."

They held each other's grip, their eyes never leaving the other and then Paris turned gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Vice President Blanchard of the United Federation of Planets."

Nayib looked at Blanchard, noting his reluctance to shake his hand. He grinned slightly holding his own out toward the silent figure. "Don't worry, Mr. Vice President. I left my pocket knife at home."

The man paled, his expression of revulsion expected. He glanced at Paris. Paris looked at him mentally quashing the disgust that rose in him over the Vice President's reaction. Obviously, the man spent too much time at cocktail parties. This was the real world with all its warts and bitter complications. The man had better toughen up he thought. He turned to the big Maquis. "Your men can keep their weapons but they must not point them at anyone. The Klingons and the Bajorans are going to guarantee security here and as a consequence I would say it would be bad form to act out of turn."

"As long as both sides remember that, Admiral," Nayib said his eyes looking around the area discreetly.

"They do," Paris said glancing at the silent man beside him. He sighed. "Shall we go in?"

"I want to know the status of my father," Nayib said stilling his party with his hand. "I want to know where he is and what his purpose is for being here if he is."

"He is here," Paris said eyeing the Maquis carefully. "He's a symbol of our good faith."

Nayib looked at Paris for a long time. Then he sighed his face betraying skepticism at Paris' words. "We'll see," Nayib said moving toward the building. The two men watched the Maquis move past them and then Owen looked at Blanchard. He sighed and shook his head turning to join them. As Blanchard moved to join him

Owen turned and lowered his voice. "You and I are going to talk later," he said moving to catch up with Nayib. The Vice President turned and hurried after him.

**********In an officer's lounge on a ship in rotation...

"The bastards are going to be treated like they were equals," a man said sipping his beer as they all lounged about.

There were first officers from seven ships in the lounge sitting around the room together shooting the breeze. It was comfortable and relaxing and they made the most of their time together.

"They can't win," another man said considering the situation.

"Why?" Riker asked genuinely interested in the Federation-Star Fleet mind set.

"Because they don't have what it takes. They can blow up civilians and shoot up isolated ships but when it comes to standing up to us man-to-man they haven't go the guts."

Tom looked at him, his face carefully neutral of expression. However inside his chest rage was building. "That didn't seem likely at the refinery. I was there and they kicked the shit out of us," he said his voice the epitome of reason.

The commander shrugged. "Cloaked."

"The Klingons fly cloaked. The Romulans do too," another said.

"It's not what a man should do. You should see your enemy's eyes," the commander persisted.

Riker smiled slightly. "First, you have to know where they are before that can happen. So far we're oh for two."

"They'll show themselves eventually," he persisted. "When they do they won't win. They don't have the nerve to stand toe-to-toe and face us."

Riker stretched his legs his feet briefly touching the other man's. He grinned slightly the irony of his situation absolutely delighting him. "If you say so, Bob," he replied tucking his hands behind his head.

**********Earth...

Tom flew her up hitting through the sensor barrier that would have signaled his presence. The other shuttle, taking off from nearby had already passed them heading up into the sky to drop the illumination charges. As they approached the edge of the occupation zone of the camp a burst of light split the screen before them. Another one followed and the night rippled with a pale white glow. Below them registering both on the sensors before them and to their eyes as they rolled over the camp -trailing behind them metallic strips of paper to scramble sensors and communications if they still existed- dark figures emerged from nowhere moving in bunches toward the compound nearby.

Tom turned and began the first run lining the shuttle up for a hit on the emergency generators and the guard towers beyond. As the shuttle careened out of the sky the first shots were fired by scurrying guards as they spilled out of the main building, defending the camp against an invasion that they never saw coming.

=0=

Book Seventeen: Nuclear Winter 3/4

=0=

"Gentlemen, ladies, shall we all sit down and begin?"

Owen Paris acting as defacto facilitator swept his arm to the elongated table that would divide the two sides from each other. They all moved, walking slowly toward their places and were seated. They sat quietly for a moment independent delegates from Vulcan, the Klingon and Bajoran governments and others from smaller but interested political entities settling in together. They sized each other up, checked their mettle and when the silence was broken, it wasn't by the Maquis. "We have opened formal negotiations with you to end this long and costly ... situation," Blanchard began.

"War. You mean war," Nayib proffered.

It was silent a moment.

"We want to find common ground. We want this business to end." Blanchard sat forward. "We want our people back and we want restitution."

Owen Paris, sitting beside him sighed internally. "What the Vice President means, Commander," he began drawing Nayib's eyes. "We want to find a common exit point for both of our sides in this conflict. It's been going on too long and it has been way too costly for everyone."

"You mention restitution," Nayib replied coldly. "Which side gets it and which side makes it? Frankly, I find it personally galling that someone on your side of the divide believes that those of us on ours owe you anything more. I would think that the blood of thousands of frontier civilians and the destruction and exploitation of our home worlds would be enough for you."

It was deathly silent for a moment as the words hung in the air between them. Finally Owen Paris leaned forward on his elbows. "I want us to get to the point where we can figure out how to live, not pay for what can't be undone. Frankly, I'm sick of death."

Nayib looked at him straight on for a long silent moment and then he glanced from Paris to the Vice President and back again.

"Who speaks for you?"

Paris sat back glancing at the tense pale man beside him. He sighed and considered what to say. The Vice President looked at him and flushed, his face registering his displeasure. "I have been authorized by the Federation High Council acting on behalf of the President whom you hold *illegally* to make negotiations for the government. You are therefore instructed to talk to me. *I* speak for the government."

Nayib looked at Blanchard his eyes flickering to Paris and back again. "I was afraid of that," he said softly. Then he rose and stood looking from one face to the other. "I came here as a representative of *my* people to make negotiations for a ceasefire. That's all I came here for. If you want more you'll have to ask. Nicely."

Blanchard stared at him and then rose. "I don't think you understand who you're talking to. I am the acting President of the United Federation of Planets."

"I know that," Nayib said calmly. "I am also aware that you people haven't talked to each other enough. If one of you wants peace and the other retribution I don't think God will hold me in low repute if I take a walk now." He turned to move the others in his party rising. Gregor Ayala, solid and silent moved to stand next to Nayib as Tabor rose from his own seat.

"Where are you going?" Blanchard asked incredulity in his voice.

"Home."

At that point Nayib turned to leave and everyone rose. Guards by the door stepped forward and so did the Maquis, Greg Ayala stepping in front of Nayib. Weapons came up and it became deadly silent. Nayib turned and noted the cool and angry face of Owen Paris and the still, shocked face of the Federation Vice President.

"Well, well ... we have a Mexican stand-off," Nayib said coolly appraising the room around him.

Klingons by the window armed and wary trained their weapons on the group, uncertain which to cover and which not to. Bajoran Vedeks, three in number stood pale and solemn watching the two groups study each other.

"I think we all need to put our weapons down," Paris said his voice calm and authoritative.

No one moved and then Nayib turned nodding to his men. With great reluctance, they complied. Nayib turned a cold smile on his face. "Let the record show the Maquis made the first gesture for peace."

Paris exhaled slightly and nodded turning and looking at the Star Fleet security officers standing around the room. One by one they lowered the weapons until only the Klingons were left. With the greatest reluctance of all, they lowered their weapons as well. "Shall we all sit again?" Paris asked conciliatorily nodding to the big Maquis standing before him.

"If there's a point to it. It seems to me that there are two tracks of thought coming through to us regarding the Federation position in this proceedings. I want to know which one is the one that will prevail." He looked at the Vice President. "One of you speaks peace and one of you speaks of war and punishment. Which face of Federation policy am I going to be talking to?"

It was silent for a moment, Paris considering his words. "We came here because in our hands the hopes and aspirations of the Federation's people reside. We have been charged to find a way to step back and move on."

"You expect me to accept your word when I hear two thoughts here. I am wondering, Admiral, just how good your word is."

"You question *our* word?" Blanchard said his ire rising again.

Nayib looked at him his intimidating dark gaze, the gaze of all the men of his family meeting the pale blue eyes of his nemesis. Blanchard blinked but held firmly refusing to look away. "Yes, I do," Nayib answered evenly.

Blanchard turned and nodded to a guard who turned and walked out of the room. Paris, watching the exchange turned and looked at Blanchard puzzledly. Then almost like a thunderbolt it hit him what was to happen. "I think a recess is in order," Paris began as the door opened again.

Stepping inside oblivious to actions already taken, Kolopak walked.

**********Far away...

It was raining hard as they stepped out noting the dim light through the umbrella of clouds that wept over them. It had been a long time since they had been home, to the sunny cloudless skies of their beloved homeworld. They were together though so it was better than nothing. Nothing, they knew about. It was what the entire frontier had to deal with for years and years and years. Khola stood under the awning water dripping steadily and sighed. Her mom was sick, a congestion keeping her in her bed. It was worrisome and she wished they were home where a healer could visit and proper care given.

However, they weren't and they would make the best of things. The negotiations were going on and things had to get better. Their father was with the Federation negotiators, that much Tom Riker had told them and they were glad of it. When they were closer together she felt better. "Have some tea, Khola," a voice called out.

She turned and met the dark gaze of her sister, Neera. "We've made some tea and we're going up to see Mama. Come with us."

Khola sighed deeply and nodded turning and walking into the house where they all lived. The door closed behind her shutting out the steady sound of rain dripping from the eaves. All was silent once more.

**********Crazy Horse...

Chakotay looked at the panel studying the layout of Khitomer. It was highly secured, a place for all kinds of groups to come and settle differences. People could be assured of safety there. There would be no way to take his father out. It would have to happen off the Enterprise or on the shuttle that left her hangar deck every day. Riker promised to put a device on Kolopak on the final trip back to Enterprise before she left the area. He would wear it on his clothing and it would let Chakotay know where he was. It would be most practicable to take him off the shuttle that would be carrying them all back to the Enterprise. They could move in undetected and be on the shuttle before they were aware of their presence.

He worked on the idea, determined to take his father back as they waited near the no trespass zone around Khitomer. He was sure he could do it jeopardizing nothing in return and the idea of getting his father back burned on his brain. He sighed and turned, walking to the conn. Beyond them, like small lights blinking, they could detect the running lights of a number of ships as they flew in their designated orbits around Khitomer's system. No one was to trespass. No one was to breach the agreed upon zone of non-interference.

He himself didn't have a problem violating that bit of agreement if it meant he could solve his problem. Nothing was more important than solving that right now. Well, maybe mostly nothing. Getting Tom back was still a burning priority that ate at his peace of mind. He glanced at the chronometer and calculated the difference in time between himself and Earth. The attack should be over and the three day window for confirming success or failure was now underway.

It ate at him like something gnawing in his gut and he remembered the last time he had felt nerves this badly. It was on New Earth when it was clear that there would be no miracles, there would be no cavalry riding to the rescue ... there would only be the rest of his life, alone. Kathryn had made it clear to him in the first few days that there would never be anything between them. They would co-exist side-by-side and nothing more could or would be done about it. The despair of the prospect of the only life he would ever have being lived in solitude had been crushing.

He had deluded himself for a while and then it had sunk in. She would never want him. She would never give in. He was always going to be outside of her walls and he would never be able to scale them, not on the ship, not here, alone on a planet. Even if you were the only man on the whole fucking planet ...

He had been. He had been the only other person she could hope to know and even then she spurned him. It had shaken him to his core. He had mulled it over, wondering what in the fuck was wrong with him that even if he was the last fucking man on an entire planet that she would still reject him. For a long time he thought it was him and then he had a moment of grace. It wasn't him. It was her. When that came clear in his head at long last he had let it go. He had let her go. They were never going to happen. Then he looked around and saw Tom.

By then the jaunty wiseass had gotten into the beds of a number of women and he had stood along the sidelines and watched what was transpiring. It had thrown him to want the youngster, watching him transform himself into a competent man who was a pleasure to know. Tom had eclectic tastes and Chakotay found that they brought something out of himself that nothing else and no one ever had. They loosened him up. They made him laugh. Tom Paris was fun. They were lucky to have him around. Then Chakotay fell in love with Tom, a slow transformation that had not jelled in the quiet man's mind until it was too late. Tom Paris was involved with B'Elanna Torres. He would wait, he told himself. He would wait until that fell apart and then he would be there scooping up the shattered remains of the lanky pilot into his own life.

However ...

He sighed and turned, walking back to the command chair. Punching up the button, he looked for the word that would signal that they were safe and on their way to the DMZ or to safe houses located all over the Sol system.

It hadn't arrived yet.

Another long day would happen and he would be stuck waiting. Nayib and his party would stay below spending the night in secured quarters. They would not leave the planet until they had what they came for or negotiations broke down. Until then they were all captives of the process.

**********Botany Bay...

"They're out there. I can feel it. Can't you?" She asked turning her dark eyes to him.

Riker smiled."I wouldn't doubt it. I just know that they can't be seen. We of course don't have that advantage."

She smiled. "We will. I know we will. I can't believe that a Maquis roustabout can best us in technology."

"We've been working on the solution for a long time and so have the Federation's best scientists. Borg technology is not our forte."

"Perhaps," First Officer Alvarez said moving to the door as she conducted First Officer Riker on a courtesy tour of her ship. "It's only a matter of time."

By the time he was ready to leave the Botany Bay would be wired for sensors. The Maquis would receive information from the small black device that Riker had attached to their mainframe computer nexus terminal and no one would be the wiser for it. It would look like just another rivet on the wall.

**********Khitomer...

It was deathly silent as everyone stared at the door. Kolopak, noting his son moved forward until a guard gripped his arm. Nayib turned toward his father rage darkening his expression.

"Take your hand off of him or I'll kill you," he rasped stepping forward. Maquis guns rose, pointed at the group by the door and all around the room other security did the same. Owen Paris looked from the Maquis to the door and stepped forward.

"Unhand him," he barked turning to face Nayib. "Order your men to put down their guns. There will be no shooting here."

Nayib turned to Paris, his face filled with rage. "You brought my father here. You have him as a prisoner. You expect me to trust you but you do this."

"Your father being here wasn't my decision. It wasn't my choice."

"It was mine. Listen to me," Blanchard began stepping toward Nayib. "Your father is our prisoner. He's here so that you might understand that we mean business. I didn't agree to come here to talk about anything less than your complete surrender."

Nayib looked at him, an incomprehensible anger rising in his mind. "You liars," he said stepping to one side. "You didn't come here in good faith. You bastards." His hand balled into a fist and he lashed out, striking the Federation Vice President on the jaw. He toppled backward and as he did, Nayib cried out as a phaser hit him. He jerked around seeing red all around him and then he fell to his knees gripping his chest tightly with his arms.

"No!" Tabor screamed moving forward. As he did a beam hit him knocking him off his feet.

Tabor flew backwards hitting the floor and rolling. He lay still as the room settled. Then all hell broke loose. Greg turned bringing his weapon up just as a Klingon weapon hit him dropping him backward with a whoosh of air. Kolopak, watching stunned, turned and punched the man holding his arm, shoving him away. As he moved forward Owen Paris turned watching as Kolopak closed the distance between them. Then a phaser caught the older man and hit him hard. He spun, gripping his head and fell to the side rolling over and over until he slammed into the wall. All around him was chaos and he stood almost in an invisible circle of safety.

The bolts of energy flew in all directions and Owen could hear the sound of men screaming as if listening from the bottom of a deep well. It was all as if in slow motion, the movements and motion distorted. Then it all slammed in and the shooting stopped the silence that enveloped them almost deafening. Owen turned and noted the Vice President standing on shaky legs rubbing his jaw. Owen reached out and gripped his shoulders. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Blanchard looked at him staring at the mayhem around him with enraged eyes. "What the *fuck* do you *think* is going on here?" he asked moving to the table. He hit a key and a voice answered. "Send in a broom. The place is a mess."

Owen stared at him, at the stunned Vedeks and the surprised Klingons. He gripped Blanchard and spun him around. "You never intended to negotiate. You used me. You used all of us."

Blanchard looked at him, staring at Paris with cold contempt. "You really, seriously didn't expect anything else did you?"

Owen stared at him with disbelief. It never occurred to him. Not once.

=0=

Book Seventeen: Nuclear Winter 4/4

=0=

It hit with a whoomping sound and everyone was startled out of their sleep. Something big had shattered the tranquility of the night and they were awakened. Sitting up, Bey listened and heard it again. Then, almost with too much intensity, the night turned to day. Rising, he rushed from the barracks and stared at the sky, noting the almost nauseating undulations of faked

illumination. Someone had launched flares and they were burning up the darkness as they drifted down. All around him he could hear men and women screaming and for a moment he didn't know what to do. Then he saw them, darkly dressed figures hurrying through what once was an impenetrable barrier of energy. They were armed he could see and he stood still, vaguely aware that Sek had come to stand beside him. "What are they?" Sek asked, staring with uncertainty at the figures moving toward them rapidly.

"Maquis," Bey said moving forward. "Come with me."

They hurried across the compound, stopping with excitement before the first group to reach them. "What do we do?" he said.

"Help us, Commander," a familiar voice said. "We have to take everyone out of here. We don't know how long we have and the fighters from Colorado Springs will murder us if we stay too long."

Bey nodded and turned calling out to the knot of people gathering at the barracks. "We have to go!"

Just then, energy bolts struck the ground next to them and a commando fell grunting with pain. Everyone hit the dirt, the commandos returning fire at a tower that had them pinned down.

"Blue one! We need the tower down. Someone's still there!"

"Blue one. On my way."

The familiar voice drew Bey's gaze and he turned slightly watching as a dark figure swept down on the camp. A shuttle came in low and hot, barrel rolling away from a beam of energy fired at her. A pair of lights flashed out catching the tower at the base. A wrenching sound of metal turning to liquid filled the air, a burning smell filling their nostrils as they watched it topple in a gut-wrenching squeal. The shuttle flashed away disappearing into the night as they rose, huddling together for instructions.

More commandos piled in moving with intense speed toward their particular targets. People poured out prisoners rushing to the dark figures that cut, shot and hacked their way into the compound. Guards, trapped and out maneuvered surrendered and huddled on their knees in the administrator's compound hands behind heads as silent men stood with their weapons trained upon them. Overhead, ships careened cutting down towers and tearing up roads against the arrival of ground cars. Commandos went building by building herding out excited but cooperative prisoners moving them to the main parade ground.

Tom watched the people, his shuttle hovering over the camp, his eyes and sensors watching for any kind of help arriving from elsewhere. It was dark as far as the eye could see so complete was the black out and he was pleased. They were only fifteen minutes into their operation and anything could happen. He glanced back noting the figure of his captain huddled over her console her eyes watching for the slightest hindrance to the plan. He looked back, watching for the red flare that would tell him to land and take A-list passengers away. Ships were waiting, cargo ships bearing Tom Riker's logo and they would all be leaving the Earth as cargo packets bound for the front lines.

No one would be searching the main supplier of medicines and essential equipment, not if they made this happen fast enough. By the time they put out the word they would be long gone. Also Tom considered no one would be told about what happened here so there would be that many fewer eyes watching for them. As he sat musing, a red flare burst before him and his fingers flew coaxing the shuttle to settled down near the spot Maquis were illuminating with hand light signaling devices. Gently, surely, they settled and he rose rushing to the back door. He popped the hatch and jumped out running to help people as they rushed forward.

He helped them clamber aboard, barely noting who was coming and then the Maquis commando leader slapped his shoulder. "Go!" he hollered over the din of explosions. Tom looked toward the compound noting lines of people following the darker figures of commandos out toward the desert beyond. He could see them in the darkness because behind them shattering in volleys of fire from detonation the prison began to go up in flames.

"We're gone! Good luck!"

Tom turned and hurtled in moving swiftly through the crowded ship to the controls. With a confidence he hadn't felt in a very long time he steered the ship up and away into the darkness. It would be seconds moving through the desert flying low and far before rising up through the atmosphere. Once he breached the atmosphere and entered space, he would fly to the floating dock that belonged to Tom Riker. He would glide her in, joined by one other and they would be safe.

It was silent in the shuttle as they flew away from the camp, stunned passengers huddling together in the darkness. Behind Tom, watching him fly with gratitude in his heart Beyvahl of Dorvan V huddled.

**********Enterprise...

Picard noted the turn in fortunes with grave emotions. He had been ordered to leave the smaller meeting he was attending with representatives of the Bajoran and Klingon governments. They were deciding a number of peripheral items including further meetings while the main one was being conducted by the Federation Vice President and Owen Paris. Entering the room, noting the carnage all around him he looked at Owen Paris with undisguised astonishment. Owen looked at him grimly and gestured him to step to one side. "What happened?" Picard asked looking as medical teams carried wounded away.

"We've been sandbagged," Owen replied. "Blanchard fucked us over."

Picard glanced at the slight man huddling with seriously aggrieved Bajoran and Klingon representatives in the corner. "The Maquis will tear this sector apart if they find out they've been double-crossed. We can't detect them. They can shoot anyone, anywhere."

"*I* know that. *You* know that. Blanchard doesn't give a flying fuck. We have to get to the Maquis before they blow up every Star Fleet base and station between here and Earth."

"I don't know how they can be reached."

"Shit," Paris hissed staring as Kolopak was carried out on a stretcher. "Find out. Send signals. Send fucking *carrier pigeons* if you have to. Just get in touch with them."

"What do you want me to tell them?" Picard asked his mind racing furiously.

"Tell them I want to meet. Tell them that this wasn't supposed to be in the cards. Tell them that we have to talk. Face-to-face."

Picard nodded and turned walking out of the room. Paris watched him his eyes dropping to the pool of blood that led the way to the door that opened as Picard left. He felt rage rising in him, a dark and impenetrable thing and as he turned, he knew that the whole future of peace lay in what he could do now. Staring daggers at Blanchard, he turned and left the room.

**********At space dock...

They stepped out moving slowly and stiffly toward the ships that waited in dock. Bey was last, walking with Tom and the two men paused watching as the line of freed prisoners disappeared into a nondescript cargo ship. "You did it. You pulled it off."

Tom smiled. "We'll see."

Behind them they heard a noise and turned Bey looked startled at the sight of Kathryn Janeway.

"We meet again," Kathryn said her husky voice cool.

"We do," Bey finally said his iron control settling once more over his formidable intellect. "You finally decide which side to be on?"

"I'm on my side," Kathryn said. "It's just that our goals coincide."

Bey nodded and turned to Tom. "What now?"

"We go to the DMZ."

Bey sighed and nodded. "My father is on the Enterprise."

"We know," Tom said turning and steering them toward the ship. "We know all about it."

They boarded and moved to a cargo hold where beds and changes of clothes were waiting. As Tom stood silently a moment, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Tom!"

Turning, he smiled speechless with relief at the sight.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," an emotional voice said.

Tom laughed, tears coming to his eyes. Opening his arms, he embraced Neelix. "So are you, Neelix. I'm so glad to see you again." Behind him, her arms around her daughter Sam Wildman stood crying silently.

**********Crazy Horse...

He paced, the signal that they were on track no received. It was to be beamed into space in a 180 degree arc for several seconds throwing off any attempt by the 'Fleet to track their locations. It hadn't come at the appointed time and Chakotay paced on the deck unconcerned with appearances. "Harry, signal Tuvok."

"Aye."

Harry hit the signal and waited for the reply. Not green he thought.

"Not green, Captain," he replied watching as Chakotay tensed even more.

"Fuck," Chakotay said softly. "No one has sent. Tuvok hasn't heard either. Something's wrong."

At that moment Harry noted a message. "We have incoming, Captain."

"What does it say?" Chakotay asked his hands balled into fists.

"It says, 'Change of plans. We're in deep shit. Stand by'."

**********Enterprise...

"Number One, my ready room," Picard said moving across the Bridge with speed.

Riker rose moving swiftly behind him and when the door to Picard's office was closed, the older man turned his face filled with distress. "Blanchard ambushed the Maquis."

"He did *what*?" Riker asked incredulously.

"He did. He blindsided the Admiral. Paris had no idea. He's told us to contact the Maquis and ask for a meet. He doesn't want them to maraud all over the sector seeking revenge. He feels content to have all three of the main leaders of the Maquis. He doesn't care that it will mean destruction on a scale that we can't prevent."

"Shit," Riker breathed. "How are we supposed to find the Maquis?"

"We're going out there with our fly unzipped. If they're going to shoot us we're damned sitting ducks. However, I want a message broadcast asking for a meet. They have to know that this situation is bust here."

Riker nodded. "We break orbit and what? Head toward the DMZ?"

Picard nodded. "I'll compose the message. I want it wide beamed as soon as we clear the sensor limits of the rest of the fleet. Get on it."

Riker nodded and turned moving to the Bridge once more. He moved to the comm center and carefully composed a message for broadcast to the two Maquis ships that he knew were out there. Then he composed another heavily encrypted and set it out on the back of normal ship traffic. It read, "Change of plans. We're in deep shit. Stand by."

**********Crazy Horse...

Chakotay sat in his chair, his eyes never leaving the screen. His heart was pounding as he considered what might have happened. His father, his older brother, his former lover and friends were down there and something had gone terribly wrong.

Could they be dead? He pushed it out of his mind, the horrible finality of such an eventuality more than he could handle at the moment. He hadn't heard that the camp raid had succeeded, the time still early in the three-day window that they would have.

He was the only man in his family still on the outside and he felt ... he *knew* that the revolution would become his should his worst fears play out. He was the only one left. He had the skills, the ability, the intellect, the charisma and daring that were required. It would all land on him. As he sat thinking, Harry considered him. Chakotay was as stressed as he had ever seen him. He knew that Chakotay's entire family was on the lamb, half of them in Federation custody and at that moment, he considered that there was very little he wouldn't do right now to help the Maquis. He had finally made the last emotional and mental hurdle. "Captain, Enterprise is leaving orbit."

Chakotay sat up and nodded. "Signal Tuvok. He stays and we go."

"Aye," Harry said complying.

A bright speck got brighter as the Enterprise approached them, moving between the two cloaked ships without detecting them. Crazy Horse turned and followed, moving into the darkness with her like a limpet fish on the side of a great white. They moved silently and then once clear a message began to play in a slow radius of the ship. "Maquis ship, this is Enterprise. We wish to have a face-to-face meeting to discuss matters of mutual concern regarding the meeting going on at Khitomer. We have been instructed by Admiral Paris to ask for this meeting. We feel that there are issues that we share that could determine the outcome of peace in this sector. Please respond."

Chakotay stood behind the conn watching as the words to the message faded on the viewscreen. "Our position, Harry."

"We're out of sensor range of the ships at Khitomer. We're now in open space."

Chakotay considered his words. "Very well. Tactical ... put two across her big fat ass."

The tactical officer glanced at Harry who nodded. Moving swiftly two bolts of energy shot from out of the darkness and raked Enterprise across her gleaming backside. Riker gripped his chair and settled back, glancing at a grim-faced Picard. "Well, I guess they got our message," he said sighing with wonderment at his situation.

"I guess they did indeed," Picard said. "Shields up. No weapons."

"No weapons?" Worf asked incredulously.

"You heard me, Mr. Worf. We're here to ask for a meeting. We don't want a shooting wa-"

The ship rattled again as energy raked her sides. Picard sat back tugging down his tunic.

"Tell *them* that! Sir!" Worf retorted.

Picard sighed and looked toward Data. "Send the message, Data. Do it."

"I am, sir," Data said a frown creasing his forehead. "I'm sending it as fast as I can."

For reasons he could never explain Tom Riker smiled.

=0=


	18. Chapter 18

=0=

Book Eighteen: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

It was quiet, the darkness welcomed. They were herded aboard ship quickly, the shuttles taking off again for who knew where. They moved to a hold where showers, civilian clothes, hot food and mats to sleep on awaited. Tom had watched as strangers settled in. Here and there was a familiar face from Voyager and he had greeted them with gratitude and relief.

Neelix, Sam and Naomi had finally settled down after a quick catch up and he in turn had too. He lay on his back, relaxing into his fatigue and the fading rush of adrenaline that still pulsed in him when he heard the door hiss open. A shaft of light pierced the darkness of the dimly lit room and then was gone as the door slid closed.

He relaxed again, rubbing his eyes and listened as someone moved among the pallets, looking for his own space he supposed. The footsteps stopped next to him and he could feel someone kneel beside him. A big hand rested on his chest and Tom strained to see through the darkness.

"Relax," a warm voice said, a hint of amusement in the soft tone. "It's me, Bey."

Tom relaxed, a smile forming on his lips. "Thank God."

A soft chuckle emanated from above Tom's face and then it was silent again. The hand, strong and big, rested on Tom's chest, unmoving. "I never got a chance to thank you for this. Things have kind of moved quickly. I should have known that you would be here," he said, his voice next to Tom's ear.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the moon."

The soft chuckle was close and then something softer brushed his lips. Tom lay still, feeling the warmth on his mouth and then it was gone. "Thank you, Tom," Bey whispered. "I never kissed a man until you and I probably never will again. I just wanted you to know that I owe you one."

"No," Tom said, sighing. "I owe you."

"Get some sleep," Bey said, rising. "We're going to be on our toes until we come close enough for the cloaked ships to pick us up."

With that, he turned and walked into the darkness, leaving Tom alone. He sighed and touched his mouth, the taste of the big man still there. Closing his eyes, he imagined that it was Chakotay, that the desire that rose in him, warming him from the groin outward was brought about by the one person he most wanted to see. Soon, he told himself. Soon.

**********Crazy Horse...

Chakotay felt deep rage flowing through him but he put it away. There was no time for emotional outbursts. Something had gone very wrong on Khitomer and Enterprise had come out looking for them to talk. The rational part of him knew that talking was what they had to do even if he couldn't trust the messenger anymore than he could trust the message. However, that part, that infinitely rational part of him wasn't the part that was beating at the door of his self-control. He rose and walked to the conn, pausing. "Open a channel."

"Open, Captain."

Harry stared at Chakotay and then the screen, filled as it was by the image of Enterprise. She was huge and she bore scorch marks on her pristine white surface. Harry could imagine Picard's feelings at this outrage. He would be monumentally pissed. Touche', Harry thought.

"Enterprise, this is Crazy Horse."

A rich voice sounded over the com system, Picard's voice. "Crazy Horse, this is Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise. We have been sent by Admiral Paris to find you so that we can arrange face-to-face talks about the situation on Khitomer."

It was silent for a moment, the struggle apparent on Chakotay's face. "Talk."

"I am not authorized to speak for the Admiral. He wants to speak to you directly himself."

"He does, does he? Things fell apart haven't they. Things are fucked up and now you want more. What have you done to our delegation? Are they dead?"

Chakotay gripped the pilot's chair, holding it tightly in his hands. It was silent for a moment and then Picard's voice returned. "The Admiral was taken by surprise by the Vice President. He's ... furious over it. He wants to speak to you directly."

"What happened to our people?" Chakotay persisted.

It was silent for a moment and then Picard spoke. "They've been taken into custody."

Chakotay turned and moved to his seat. He sat down and gripped the arms of his chair, fury on his face. "Bring her around. Fire shots across their forward hull."

The ship wheeled, her phasers shooting burst along the shiny white hull of the big battle cruiser. Crazy Horse veered off, moving around and back behind the bigger ship. Enterprise, black streaks marring her hull didn't return fire.

"Captain Chakotay! Cease this at once! We're not going to return fire unless you force us to!"

Chakotay considered Picard's words and his tone. He was pissed but he was in control. They had the advantage, cloaked and untraceable and he wanted to use it in the worst way. "Details, Picard. What condition is the delegation in?"

It was silent for a moment and then Picard spoke. "There was an ... altercation."

Chakotay felt molten rage fill his head and then he cleared it. "If you don't tell me what happened, you will be more than just a little sorry, Captain. I do recall that we came to this meeting in good faith."

It was silent for a moment and then Picard's face filled their screen. He was standing behind the conn, his face as serious as Chakotay could ever remember seeing it. He took a deep breath and nodded. "The delegation came in good faith and so did we. However, the Federation Vice President had other priorities. There was an argument as near as I can tell and shots were exchanged. Your party was taken into custody."

"So, this is what we can expect from the Federation?" Chakotay hissed open in his rage.

Picard listened, his own screen filled with the star field and sighed. "It's not what we were coming here to do. We didn't plan this. Blanchard did. Now we have to fix it."

"You assume it's fixable." Chakotay rose and walked toward his own conn. "Go back and tell Paris. He releases our people including Kolopak of Dorvan V, and then we'll talk."

"I have orders."

"You have *new* orders. Do you really expect me to just walk back into negotiations now that you've double-crossed us like this? We came to you *in good faith*!"

"And we came to you in the same way. The politicians have other plans and we weren't let in on the plan."

"Tell Paris our conditions and tell him that what the Vice President has unleashed is already in motion." Chakotay turned and nodded to Harry, the younger man cutting off communications immediately. They turned and looked at the big ship before them and Chakotay considered his options. "Rick, take us back to Khitomer. I need to talk to Tuvok."

"Aye, Captain," Batehart said his fingers flying over the console. The ship wheeled and disappeared into the night leaving Enterprise behind.

**********Bridge of Enterprise...

Picard swore softly under his breath as the link was severed. Things were in play now that were out of their control and god only knew where it would all end. He turned, noting the still face of his second. Riker looked at him, waiting for directions.

"All hell is going to break loose," Picard said, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Damn."

Riker regarded him, noting his anger and waited. "What now, Captain?"

"Take us back to Khitomer, Commander Data. We have to talk to Admiral Paris."

"Aye, sir," Data said, wheeling the ship around.

Picard walked to his seat, settling down between Riker and a pale silent Troi. He considered their predicament. "Where would you strike if you were as angry and as cloaked as Captain Chakotay?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere," Riker proffered.

Picard sighed. "That's just it. We have no way of protecting ourselves against their predations." He glanced at Troi. "What can you tell me, Counselor?"

She swallowed and looked at Riker for a moment. "I detect extreme anger and an extreme sense of betrayal. Some of the men in custody are members of his family. His father, his brother ... they are important to him and he doesn't know of their condition. He just knows that shots were fired and they're in custody. He's a man who can do anything. In my opinion."

Picard sighed. "I was afraid of that. Number One, I'll be in my ready room."

Picard rose and stepped away, walking to his ready room and a secured comm line. Riker watched him go and looked at Troi. "You look pale."

She glanced away staring at the screen. "I feel pale. How far are you going to go with this? Until people get killed?"

"People might already be killed. Perhaps Maquis blood means nothing to you but it means a lot to me. I'm offended that this is the way the Federation keeps its word. Aren't you?"

Troi swallowed hard. "I can't say that I'm pleased with this turn of events."

He grinned slightly. "Good. You do remember Will, don't you?" he whispered, leaning closer to her. "You do remember that if you don't cooperate, you will be receiving him back again. In pieces."

"You hate him that much?" Troi asked, lowering her voice as well. She stared at the intimate stranger sitting next to her.

"Let me say this," Riker began, leaning even closer. "I hate him less than I love the Maquis. I hope you understand my loyalties. They were formed in a Cardassian prison camp and they aren't negotiable. Will's life is in your hands, Counselor. And your own too. You will be as responsible as I am for anything that happens by your silence. Life in a Federation prison. Or maybe a needle in your arm. Don't forget that either."

She swallowed and sat rigidly watching him from the corner of her eye. He sat back his own eyes fixed on the screen ahead. There was nothing she could do but go along. She had never felt so helpless in her life as she did right now. She closed her eyes and tried to make herself relax. It was an exercise in futility.

**********Crazy Horse...

They reached the nebula, their message to Tuvok received. He was waiting and when Chakotay beamed over it was clear that things were bust. Tuvok and Chakotay turned walking to Tuvok's Ready Room to talk. Entering, Chakotay walked to the window his face grim. "They double-crossed us," he said his voice hard with emotion.

"So it would seem," Tuvok agreed. "I received a message from the router. The prison break was successful and they are on their way to the rendezvous point."

"The cargo?" Chakotay asked not daring to truly hope.

"My son and Mr. Paris are among them. Your brother, Beyvahl is too."

A wave of relief hit Chakotay in the gut like punch and he turned back to the window to gather his emotions. Sighing deeply, he turned back to Tuvok, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Your son is free. Your ties to us are resolved. I need to know what your mind is now, Tuvok."

Tuvok looked at Chakotay, at the anger in his face. He knew that no matter how angry the man got he still put the ship and their mission first. In his own heart the rage still pounded. It was a blow to his sense of purpose and order to find that his son was imprisoned and the Federation at war with the Maquis who he had been led to believe were dead.

When he had joined Chakotay, he had been impressed with the manner in which he had conducted himself in impossible situations. Although the quiet man was less overtly passionate during the time they served Janeway than he was now or before it had never interfered with his thinking or ability. When they had finally settled their differences in the middle of the voyage they had grown comfortable with each other, finding common ground in each other's strengths and abilities.

Now they were back on the other side again Tuvok fighting for his son and his honor. He had pledged himself to Chakotay and the Maquis and that hadn't changed for him. The realization of it was a bit surprising but he kept it to himself. "I am for you, Captain. You have my word as a Vulcan and as a Star Fleet officer."

Chakotay looked at him, at the directness of Tuvok's stare and he believed him. He was filled with relief, with the surety that they would be together. Turning, he walked to the replicator and coded in two glasses of wine. Turning again, he handed one to Tuvok. He raised his own glass slightly. "To the Cause," he said clicking his glass against Tuvok's. "To our people."

Tuvok nodded. "To all of the above."

Chakotay felt the ghost of a smile on his face and he tilted the glass, the burning liquor flowing down his throat. He turned and dumped it into the recycler. "I'm glad that you're with me, Tuvok. We're going to need each other now."

Tuvok nodded. "Indeed. I am told that Kathryn Janeway is with the returning parties. She was part of the operation to break out the prisoners."

Chakotay looked at him, considering the news and nodded. "Why am I not surprised?"

Tuvok nodded almost surprised. "Indeed."

Chakotay moved to Tuvok's desk and pressed the terminal button. It lit up and he noted the list on the screen. "We have to put into plan part B after we pick up our people."

"I'll rendezvous with you at the Bajoran frontier."

Chakotay nodded clicking off the list. "Once the prisoners are on board join me. We'll kick some ass before coming back."

Tuvok nodded musing on Chakotay. "A quaint way to put it but yes, we'll ... kick some ass."

Chakotay grinned broadly for the first time in days. "Tuvok, I do believe I'm corrupting you to the dark side."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow in distain. "I fail to see how my efforts to fit into this alternative lifestyle that the two of us find ourselves in would be a source of amusement for you."

Chakotay grinned and shook his head. "You have no idea," he said moving toward the door and his ship. "No idea at all."

=0=

Book Eighteen: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

On the edge of the Bajoran frontier...

Chakotay sat in his chair, noting that the sun would be rising on the home world of Bajor soon. Far away, moving through the night Liberty was speeding back toward him. On board would be Tom, Bey and many others including all the captured members of the Revolutionary Council from years back. It would be a total and complete relief to resolve Tom's problems but still the situation in Khitomer was a huge and throbbing worry in his head.

Riker was encrypting information as fast as he heard it including the movements of the ships that had come with Enterprise. The sensor devices that he had planted were working perfectly. At least they had that on their side. What was known about Khitomer was still in flux. Things had been guarded and only in bits and pieces through Riker's conversations with Picard had it began to come together in the big picture.

A shooting match had erupted, people falling like raindrops into bloody heaps. A 'Fleet security officer had been killed in the crossfire and Tabor, caught in the beam of disrupters and phasers was as of this moment the most critically injured of the three people known to have been shot.

Chakotay was filled with anguish over the idea of Tabor being hurt and the uncertainty over the others was crippling. Knowing

Nayib, Chakotay was convinced that he would have been shot

too if for no other reason than to protect Tabor. His father wouldn't have allowed that to happen unchallenged so he was probably hit as well. None of the three guards they had sent would have gone down without a shot or two. How it all turned out he had no idea. He just knew that the anger roiling through him was pure, omnipresent and useful to the next part of their operation.

They would leave a hit and run trail of destruction all over the Federation side of the DMZ. They were on alert too, cells making ready to sabotage and raise hell everywhere on the Federation side of the divide. They would begin with Deep Space Nine.

**********In the middle of nowhere...

The transfer went smoothly, the ship that brought them handing them over to the empty void in space that Liberty occupied. It had been swift and the freighter moved on, taking supplies of medicine and equipment to Federation Star Bases all over the sector. Tom hurried down the hallway, moving toward the lift. As he did a hail caught him and he turned, noting Bey sprinting toward him. He entered and the door closed, the two men looking at each other in wonderment. "You look ready to rumble," Tom said, noting the familiar smile from on familiar lips.

"I feel reborn. I tried to get Sek to come with me but he wants to see his father privately. It's been a long and disillusioning trail for him and he wants to explain himself without observers, apparently."

"His father loves him. He's proud of him. He came with us into the Maquis and left everything behind," Tom said musing on the conversion that had surprised him the most.

Bey nodded. "I hear that they're negotiating on Khitomer and something bad happened there."

Tom swallowed. "We better get there soon."

"We have a few stops along the way I'm told."

Tom nodded and they turned, stepping off the lift to the deck of the Liberty. Tuvok turned and rose, moving toward them. "Welcome to the Maquis vessel, Liberty."

Tom grinned and stepped down, clapping Tuvok on the shoulders. "Thanks, Tuvok. You are one sight for sore eyes."

Tuvok nodded, his poise unruffled by this permitted display of emotional humanism. He looked toward Beyvahl. "Welcome back, sir. I trust that you are in good health."

Bey nodded. "I would like a full update if I may."

"I, myself would like to fly this ship to wherever we're going," Tom said looking over at the conn.

Tuvok nodded. "Take the conn, Mr. Paris. We are heading for the Bajoran frontier. The heading is in the navigational computer."

Tom grinned and slapped Tuvok's shoulder. He turned and walked to the conn, relieving the pilot. He sat and began to work through the flight plan, noting that the same innovations that allowed them stealth, communications and speed were as identical on this ship as they were on Crazy Horse. "No problem," he said to himself as he turned back to Tuvok. "Captain, your orders?"

"Take us to the Crazy Horse," Tuvok said turning to lead Beyvahl to his Ready Room.

Tom watched them go and then turned looking at the panel before him. Relief pulsed through him, relief that he was this much closer to home and the one man who he found on his mind day and night. "No problem," he repeated as his fingers moved across the panel. "No problem at all." With that, in the thrall of a controlled nuclear explosion the great ship disappeared into the night.

**********Star Fleet Medical Hospital, Khitomer...

He rested on clean white sheets, layers of artificial skin covering the burns that ran from the left side of his face down to his shoulder. He had wounds elsewhere over thirty percent of his body and he was on life support. A disrupter destroys cells and leaves a nasty wound. Normal methods of regeneration must wait the regrowth of body cells. That was done with mostly applications of nutrients and artificial skin starters.

He was swathed in them, his handsome face half covered and he lay in the twilight of unconsciousness, floating on a drug induced dream cloud of home and family. They had brought him in and pumped him full of fluids and blood. His heart had stopped beating two times and they had revived him, pulling him back from the bright light that had beckoned to him so invitingly.

He had come back reluctantly, the joy of going to the Prophets cut short by the necessity of continuing the one life he would ever have. The pain was still there, a dulled rasping thing and he would bear it because he had too. When he came back to the world, if he did, then it would be another thing. The doctor checked her patient, noting that his handsome Bajoran face was covered in burns along one side. She felt little clinical detachment, a major flaw in her professional character and with a careful touch, smoothed thick dark hair away from shuttered eyes. He was her first Maquis, the first man from the other side that had landed on her desk so to speak. He wasn't the demon that they had told her he would be in the Academy. He was young, handsome, small and slender. He was someone's son, maybe. You never could tell with Bajorans. It was a rare family that was still intact. He was however her patient and she would give him the best care she could.

Turning, she watched as another Maquis was wheeled into ICU from the surgery. This one was a big man, tattooed forehead and handsome face. He had internal injuries from multiple phaser wounds and they had repaired him with care. Now he would lie here and recover, gathering back his health for god knew what would come next. They moved him beside another who was sleeping, an older man with the same tattoo. Were they related, she considered? It would seem so. The idea of a fire fight on the grounds of the Peace Center at Khitomer was almost more than she could imagine. That it would involve a family, well, that required some consideration.

She turned back to her patient, the man who was most injured. Brain scans had indicated damage and they had begun to repair that. What it would mean to his memories she didn't know. The brain was a tricky thing. What concerned her most now was getting him past his delicate stage in skin recovery so they could go in and repair as much of the facial burns as they could. It would be a damned shame, she thought, that so handsome a young man should have to face life scarred.

With a sigh, she turned to watch the monitor that tracked the progress of Tabor of Bajor, lover of Nayib of Dorvan V, Maquis and prisoner of the United Federation of Planets.

**********At a meeting in the Peace Center...

Owen Paris paced up and down the hallway, nearly hysterical in anger. He had an iron grip on his emotions but they were seething in him like lava. He had stepped out of the meeting that was currently going on in the conference room. On one side of the table were the Federation politicians led by Blanchard. On the other was Star Fleet, led by himself. They had begun their meeting using barely civil tones and now they adjourned for a moment to let the ringing shouts that had filled the room settle. Paris was, in short, pissed like he had never felt before. The meeting was certainly not going well, he considered, and he thought about how Star Fleet had been rooked into this sham exercise.

It was galling. It was profoundly infuriating and he considered the honor that was sullied by the blatant political use of Star Fleet ships and personnel in what was a shameless grab of Maquis through manipulation. His reactions to this were oddly out of sync with what Owen would have thought himself capable of. However ...

Since the return of Voyager things had not been the same. It had been a point of honor for him to be a part of a process that would bring closure to something long overdue, the end of the Dominion-Cardassian-Federation War. It would allow families like his own to reconvene and find their way again.

He had done for Tom what he never could before he thought his son was lost. He had broken him out of Federation custody and sent him back to the people that he was sworn to capture, thwart and, if necessary, kill. He had sent Tom back to the Maquis. It had occurred to him in his desire to ensure that Tom live in anything other than a cage that he had sent his son back into the embrace of the tiger. He sighed, his anger dissipating a bit. He felt tired, angry and hurt and frustrated. Turning, he

looked at the five younger junior officers, ranked Captain through Commodore, and noted their intense distress.

He considered his options and then made up his mind. Nodding to a side room, each of the men joined him in its quiet recesses and the door closed behind them silently.

**********Star Fleet Medical Center, Khitomer...

He came to consciousness slowly, his mouth dry and his head pounding. He groaned, tugging at his arms but the leather straps that held him down kept him from rising. He opened his eyes, blinking as he worked to clear his vision. He was in a room with another person, someone that rustled when they saw him move. He turned toward that sound, toward that motion and strained to see who was there.

"Nayib."

The voice was familiar, deep and mellow, tinged with an accent that spoke of Spanish pueblos and lazy days on horseback, moving across oceans of grass. Nayib sighed and blinked again. Then he smiled, tears coming to his eyes. "Papa," he whispered.

Kolopak let out the breath he had been holding in as he saw clarity shine from his son's eyes. For a day and a half, they had lain in this room, side by side in their suffering and only now did his boy come to his senses. He closed his own eyes, shoving away the emotion that overwhelmed him along with the relief Nayib's voice had given him. He was alive. That was all that mattered. The soft beep of a monitor invaded the silence as Kolopak watched his son fall back into sleep once again.

**********Near the Bajor frontier...

Liberty dropped from warp, using the comm link system that was encrypted to locate Crazy Horse. She moved from behind a small moon and slipped along side of her sister ship. Tom watched her come toward them the excitement inside almost overpowering him.

"Liberty to First One."

"First One here."

Chakotay's voice filled the comm link and Tom felt the hair on his arms rising. He swallowed hard, the image of the man coming unbidden into his mind.

"We have the Revolutionary Councilors, Beyvahl, Mr. Paris, and a number of crewmen from Voyager."

It was silent a moment.

"Very well," Chakotay said relief evident in his voice. "I need to speak to you. I think we have to trade a few people off. We're going in on the run against DS9. I don't want any of the essential people caught up in this if things don't work out."

"On my way. I will bring Beyvahl with me."

It was silent for a moment and then Chakotay spoke. "Agreed. First One out."

Tuvok turned. "Shall we go, sir?"

Beyvahl nodded and turned following Tuvok to the lift. When

he got there he paused, turning and looking at Tom at the conn. "Mr. Tuvok, would you have a problem with Mr. Paris coming with us?"

Tuvok paused, looking from Beyvahl to Paris and back again. "I don't think so. Mr. Paris?" Tuvok said mildly. "Join us."

Tom rose and walked to the lift, gratitude and nervousness in his eyes. They entered and Tuvok called for the proper deck. Standing quietly, his nerves obvious Tom felt a hand resting gently on the small of his back. He glanced at Bey and met warm kind eyes. He smiled nervously and nodded. The lift stopped and they stepped off moving to the transporter. Once they were on board a pad, a split second window the size of a pinhole that would allow them to be beamed off was formed. It would signal their transfer from one ship to another. It would be fast, tiny and safe. It would also be seldom used.

They whisked away and almost as instantly, the walls of the transporter room on Crazy Horse formed around them. Tom blinked and looked around searching the small group of people waiting for the one he wanted more than anyone. Standing toward the back, Chakotay watched as the figures materialized, Bey first, then Tuvok and finally the one who had prayed on his heart and haunted his dreams for months. Tom looked strained and thin, his pale face somehow young and old at once.

Bey stepped down and greeted everyone, moving and embracing his brother tightly. Tuvok stepped down and moved toward Chakotay, greeting him as he did. Tom stood on the platform watching with emotional eyes the one person he wanted to touch more than anything else in the world. It was slow motion almost the noise in the room fading away as he scrutinized the older man carefully.

Chakotay was relieved to see his friends and family again. He looked tired and pale, strained through overwork and worry. Tom knew that look. He had seen it on his own face as well in endless days of endless stress in the Delta. He hated to see it on Chakotay. The older man, calm and smart and reasonable left a lot of his common sense behind when it came to a mission and the work ethic needed to make it happen.

Had he gotten enough sleep? Had Chakotay eaten as he should?

Tom was sure that negatives applied to both questions. The crowd settled and all eyes turned to him. Tom blinked and noted that everyone was waiting for him to join them. "Gentlemen, I think we need to talk," Bey said glancing from Tom to Chakotay.

Chakotay, jolted from his gaze nodded. "Yes. The conference room."

"Fine. We'll meet you there," Bey said turning to the others in the small group. "Shall we go?"

Everyone began to turn including Chakotay. Bey put his hand on Chakotay's arm. "Take a minute," he said his warm eyes glancing from Tom to Chakotay. Bey turned and the others followed leaving them both behind. The door shut and it was only the two of them. Chakotay turned, his intense gaze on Tom.

"Hi," he said his throat suddenly painful. He swallowed around the lump that formed there blinking suddenly burning eyes.

Tom nodded his hands clenching and unclenching as he stood rooted to the spot. With a ragged sigh he stepped down and walked toward Chakotay, awkward and silent in demeanor.

"You look thin, Tom," Chakotay said as the taller man stopped before him.

"Well, you know hospital food," he replied softly.

Chakotay nodded reaching out his hand. He placed it on Tom's chest, the strong beat of the younger man's heart calming to his restive mind. He stepped closer, taking Tom's face in his hand. He looked into Tom's eyes, the pain and worry of months filling his expression. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

Tom nodded, a tear spilling from his eye. "Are *you* all right?"

Chakotay shrugged, sliding his hands down Tom's chest lingering as he moved to slip his arms around the taller man's waist. Tom's arms slid up Chakotay's lingering on the strength that he felt beneath the cotton of his shirt. "I'm fine now," he said softly. "I'm going to be fine now."

=0=

Book Eighteen: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

On the edge of the Bajoran frontier...

Bey stood at the window considering the information that Tuvok and others had told him. They were in a vice now, the outcomes of this battle delicate matters. The plan to take war to the Federation for their duplicity was something he agreed upon even though it could carry heavy consequences for them. The battle line along the DMZ was classic. The Federation had attacked them for years trying with overwhelming force to break them. It had failed due to the flexibility that motivated the Maquis and the resentment that doing so had built up in the region.

The fast movements of the Maquis from one place to another concealed many times among the seething populations of the rim made it impossible for the Federation to make a significant dent in the ever-fluid enemy. They had congealed, the two sides, the DMZ the wide demarcation that divided the futilely hunting from the tenaciously hanging on.

Over the years under the astute leadership of Beyvahl they had built up their arms, consolidated their troops and formed different divisions of operation. There were cells hidden all over the Federation waiting to be activated, silently sending information to their controls, turning people to their cause, eliminating opposition one way or the other.

The ships that flew against the Federation were a mixed lot, small and large with the crown jewels Voyager and Sorrel Hill. The two ships had the best technology that could be had, many of the options miles ahead of the Federation. It was a balancing act the two sides, generally prowling along the line and rattling their sabers in futility and frustrated machismo.

However ...

Since the return of Voyager the whole situation had changed. The Federation had taken them on and they had achieved mixed results. The Federation had sacrificed ships and crew to capture the Maquis leadership and possession of that bunch of highly desirable people had gone back and forth like a football in a soccer game.

Now they had lost half of their holdings even as Blanchard had gotten a number back on his own hook. Both sides had cancelled out each other's advantage and it was back to square one. Only it wasn't. Things were different now and they wouldn't go back to neutral again. The stakes were higher and the goals more intense. It would never be the same old game again.

**********Transporter Room, Crazy Horse ...

"You look tired."

Chakotay swallowed and nodded. "I've been busy."

Tom smirked slightly, stepping forward into Chakotay's arms. He embraced the older man, holding him tightly as tears slipped from his eyes. Chakotay embraced him back, squeezing him tightly. All that he felt, all the trauma of the past few months spilled from his eyes in tears and he held Tom to his body like he was a lifeline. "I love you."

The words were balm to Tom's heart and he hugged Chakotay tighter. "I love you too."

Chakotay sighed, burying his face in Tom's neck, the familiar smell of clean skin and masculinity soothing. Tom was thin, he could tell. That would change now that he was home. "I missed you."

Tom squeezed Chakotay and then he looked into his dark eyes. "I thought I would never see you alive again."

Chakotay licked his lips and nodded. "I didn't see this moment happening either."

Tom nodded, sighing. "I want to be with you."

Chakotay nodded. "I know. Tonight. My place."

Tom smiled, chuckling. "Sounds like a date."

"It is," Chakotay said, a smile lightening his expression. "I want you tonight, Tom."

Tom's expression softened, serious emotion filling his eyes. He nodded. Leaning in, he pressed his lips lightly against Chakotay's. The older man, his eyes closing, pulled Tom tightly against him, kissing him back with all the sorrowing passion of months of work and worry. Tom leaned in kissing him back and for a moment there wasn't another care in the universe.

Tom sighed, staring at Chakotay with luminous eyes. "That tasted good. I want more."

Chakotay chuckled. "So do I. Rain check?"

Tom sighed deeply, his eyes never leaving Chakotay's face. "I may explode."

"Don't. I haven't had a chance to touch you yet. Save it for me."

Tom smiled. "No problem."

Chakotay slid his hands downward, gripping Tom's ass. They stared at each other, their eyes locked together and Tom kissed him again, long and lingeringly. He sighed. "Duty calls, Tom."

"Fuck duty."

Chakotay snorted, a broad smile on his face. "Fuck duty is good when you can get it but ship duty calls now. We're going to kick Deep Space Nine in the ass. Care to join us?"

Tom smiled shaking his head. "That road will lead us to hell."

"Good," Chakotay replied his hands rubbing the small of Tom's back. "I'd hate to go alone."

Tom smiled. "You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive."

Chakotay looked at him, a serious expression on his face. "I love you, Tom. Don't ever leave me again."

Tom kissed him. "I'm here. Let's go take care of business."

Chakotay nodded and turned, his hand lingering on Tom's back as they walked out the door. In his heart, Chakotay felt freed. Tom was here. He was with him. They would be together. All they needed to do now was get his father and the party back and make the Federation sit down to negotiate in good faith.

No small order he considered but imminently more doable he felt with Tom by his side. They entered the lift and Chakotay called for the Bridge, riding to it with Tom in his arms. They stood together holding each other silently, Tom's head lying on his shoulder. Chakotay rubbed Tom's back, the tight muscles of Tom's tense body relaxing under his gentle touch. The lift arrived and he stepped out, Harry's delighted howl breaking the tension on the Bridge. Tom turned and hugged him, chattering with him in delight. As he did he turned, his eyes meeting someone else's and the expression of pleasure on his face fell into solemnity. He stood a moment and then nodded. "Hello, B'Elanna."

She looked at him from her seat at Engineering and nodded back.

"Hello, Tom. Welcome back."

"Thanks," he said softly. "It's good to be back."

Chakotay watched with intensity and then he turned toward Tom and Harry. "Staff meeting, conference room, all Alpha shift officers."

Then he turned and walked toward the door that led to the conference room. B'Elanna followed him and then Harry. Tom, trailing the group, stared around the Bridge as he went. It felt good to be home he thought moving toward the conference room door. Inside, sitting around the table Bey and Tuvok waited. They joined them and the meeting began.

Tom listened as they explained the plan. Rick Batehart would take Bey and the other Council members away, heading with lightning speed for the nebula that had sheltered them nearby. They would wait there until the mission at DS9 was completed. Once that was done they would be picked up by Liberty and all would head for home once more delivering the Councilors to Maquis territory and refitting their ships for a return to Khitomer.

Bey would send out a message, encrypted, to the Enterprise. If Owen Paris wanted a talk they would hear him out. It would come only after they delivered a message of their own to the Federation. Deep Space Nine and the communications relay outside of Bajoran space would be their love letters to their former countrymen. Tom watched as they talked, his eyes focused on Chakotay. He was almost relaxed, his head nearly touching Bey's as the two men talked together. When the plan was made they all rose and began to filter out. As B'Elanna reached the door, Chakotay called out to her. "B'Elanna, wait a moment. You too, Tom."

They hesitated and then paused, letting the others pass by until they were the only people in the room. Chakotay stared at the table a moment, a flush rising in his cheeks. "This is awkward," he said glancing up at both of the others. They were standing silently, their own discomfort evident. "B'Elanna, I want to tell you that I'm in love with Tom."

She looked at him her own face pale. She glanced at Tom and then Chakotay. Then, she nodded and began to turn.

"Wait."

She hesitated and turned back to them both.

"I love you. You are one of my oldest friends and I would never hurt you. But I'm in love with Tom. I wanted you to hear it from me."

She nodded and glanced at Tom. "Tom has no ties to me, Chakotay. He's free to do what he wants."

Tom swallowed hard his gaze dropping to the floor. B'Elanna looked at him and then turned leaving the room. The door slid shut and Chakotay, moving slowly stopped in front of Tom. "I didn't do that to hurt you. I just had to make it clear where I stood with you."

"I know," Tom said sighing deeply. "It's just that ... I just ..."

"I know," Chakotay replied kissing Tom softly. "I know."

Tom nodded glancing at the door. "I don't want you to lose your friendship with her. She needs someone."

Chakotay nodded. "I know. We better go."

Tom nodded and turned, the pressure of Chakotay's hand against the small of his back comforting. They walked to the Bridge and Chakotay moved to Bey clearing the last details before they left with Batehart to the Liberty. Tom turned, walking past his silent estranged wife and took his place at the conn relieving Rick Batehart with a hug.

The party left and Chakotay turned, looking with great pleasure and no little emotion at the sight of his lover at the conn. "Once the shuttle has cleared Liberty, put us on course for DS9 at warp five."

"Aye, Captain," Tom said keying the navigation computer into compliance.

Chakotay turned and sat on his chair considering the plan that had been devised by his brother. "I don't want extensive loss of life. We have the moral high ground here and I don't want to lose it. What I want to do and what I think we *should* do is send a really strong message. Let them know we could kill them but we choose not to. Here's what I want and soldiers," he said glancing from face to face, "tell me where I'm wrong if it can't be done. I want you to swing in together and take out their weapons and communication arrays. Then swinging back around take out their ability to operate. Close down their docks and ports of entry."

It was silent for a moment and Tuvok leaned forward. "I too am not in favor of a loss of life that exceeds barest minimums. This will take planning but we have the element of surprise on our side."

"Good. Then it's doable?" Bey had asked.

Chakotay nodded. "Imminently."

Now after assigning parts of the operation between crews of both ships Chakotay considered what would come next. Either they would pull this off, the element of surprise their biggest asset or they would take a few hits. He didn't think they would pay too much. And if they took out the comm relay the Federation would be cut off from their deep space stations, ships and forward bases. It was a good idea. And it was good to be back in the game. With a sigh, with the idea of being alone with Tom later playing across his mind Chakotay relaxed for the first time since he was told that Tom was gone.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

He sighed, the soup of semi-consciousness in which he floated sheltering him from the reality of his moment. People were there and they were working on his arms and chest. He could feel tugging. He could feel stinging, like the pricks of dozens of tiny needles. It felt strange and he tried to raise his arms

to fend them off.

He couldn't. He was too tired. He closed his eyes and let them move him around. His face was sore and he tried not to open his mouth. The buzz of voices that he couldn't distinguish nipped at his ears.

"Wrap that arm carefully."

A nurse complied, moving with care special healing bandages around the limp arm of the Bajoran on the table. He made sure that he covered each inch of the delicate new skin, the wrap filled with nutrients for regeneration essential to the healing process. The doctor gently turned Tabor's face noting the angry red tissues beneath the newly placed pads. He frowned, noting that it was a slow-going process. Glancing up, he caught the eye of the skin specialist. "This looks infected."

The specialist leaned in and looked, hissing with frustration at the redness. "Bajorans don't respond well to our antibiotics and we are having trouble replicating the required types."

"He'll be scarred if we don't do better. Put in a call to the Bajoran Embassy on Klingon. See if they have a healer on staff. Tell him what the problem is and get recommendations."

The specialist nodded, looking at Tabor with worry. Turning, he walked to a terminal and began to encode a message. At that moment of course, he had no way of knowing that the deep space array, the communications router of the Federation was under siege from ships that couldn't be detected.

The message to the Bajoran Embassy would be delayed and the treatment for Tabor would as well. Lying on a table, oblivious to the world around him Tabor of Bajor slept. In the big picture, in the scheme of all things it was a small defeat overall.

But in the end when it was all counted it and tallied it would be just what it was. A damned shame.

=0=

Book Eighteen: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

On the edge of the Bajoran frontier...

Moving like sharks toward an unsuspecting pod of seals, the two ships glided through the darkness. Moving ever closer they set up their runs through the navigational computer. There were Star Fleet ships docked, many more moving here and there doing the business of commerce and resupply. Pausing to get their bearings and making last minute adjustments, the two ships poised themselves. In seconds, they would be on their way toward Deep Space Nine and a confrontation that would reverberate all over the Federation.

**********On Deep Space Nine ...

Ben Sisko sat at his desk moving around its surface all the myriad detritus of a work-a-day world. The work load was an ever present reminder that several key people to the station's operation were gone. Defiant had patrolled the DMZ ostensibly to add security but in actuality, it was to help break in new ship commanders to the harsh reality of living and working here. It had been a disaster, two ships being destroyed and the Defiant captured. It had been shocking to everyone involved but more to the point the people DS9.

Kira Nerys, Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir and others were captured and put into prison. God only knew how they were. The frontier had been put on alert and things had settled back into stalemate nce more. However, here at ground zero of a failed operation, people had to live with the outcome. He sighed and sat back in his chair. As he did he didn't see nor could he, the invisible shadow that loomed out of space and began to rake phaser fire across the top of his station. The shattering explosions of weapons emplacements and communications arrays blowing up shook him from his chair and he landed flat on his face on the floor.

Rising, shoving a panel out of the way that had buckled under the fire he staggered forward toward the door only to be lifted off his feet again. Returning fire, he could see through the window as he fell raking along the long arms of the station and raising momentary flickers of red as they stitched the station.

He fell hard, his head bumping off the deck. Lying stunned, he watched as overhead lights shorted from energy surges backing up along the network probably cooking systems as they did. He turned over and clambered back up gripping the doorjamb as another explosion rocked the station. Turning, he looked out the window behind his desk. Transfixed, he watched as ships backed out the umbilical cords of the station ripping out of their slots as they struggled to break free and move to space in defense.

Ribbons of energy, bright and jagged like lightning in a summer sky shot from their weapons array piercing the darkness and fading away. As he stood watching, he noted that not a single strike connected. Turning, stumbling along the corridor he made his way to the command center. By the time he reached it the Maquis ships would be gone melted back into the darkness, moving like swifts to the communication array just outside of Bajoran space. By the time they struck it the frontier along seventy-five percent of the DMZ would fall into darkness, sitting deaf and mute in the middle of an escalating war of vengeance.

***********Crazy Horse...

Tom steered her directly at the station moving side-by-side with the Liberty. Concentrating on the board before him a small part of his psyche wished that he could see what this spectacle looked like. He was sure it must be awe inspiring as he swerved, moving with huge concentration along one side of the station even as Liberty took the other.

Concentrated fire flashed out, targeted along the top and sides of the big device as she hung like a glittering jewel in the darkness. Fires erupted in a line as they stitched the vessel striking targets that were computer located. They erupted, sending showers of particles, fire and light into the darkness.

They careened past and pulled into a tight roll coming around and moving forward together. Splitting along the sides they both struck along the side of the station hitting each targeted bay as they flew. Before them, moving without coordination, the ships that were tethered backed out and up, struggling to break free.

Chakotay watched them fighting the impulse to strike them.

They needed to take out the array and get their people. The sooner that people were cut off from their bases farther in the sooner the Federation would realize that they had an untenable situation. He watched as DS9 convulsed and then rose to walk to the conn resting his hands on Tom's shoulders. "Take us to the array."

"Done," Tom said moving his hands swiftly.

She turned and bolted, jumping to warp like the thoroughbred that she was. Behind her, moving into place Liberty followed.

The station was left behind, broken, injured and out of the loop. The staging area for a lot of Star Fleet business was knocked out of it. The array loomed up swiftly and was as swiftly destroyed shattering like a Christmas decoration dropped onto a floor. They turned and left, moving to the nebula and their rendezvous with the shuttle. Once she was on board, both ships slipped into running configuration, heading quickly toward the DMZ and home. As they did, from the Liberty, Beyvahl of Dorvan V sent his message to Admiral Paris of Star Fleet.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

Nayib sat in the chair shackles on his hands and feet and stared with a molten sullenness at the men arrayed before him. He was sore and tired, his own concern hidden deeply even as he mused on the whereabouts of his lover and his father. He had seen T'Lau taken down by security before oblivion claimed him and he thought he had heard Tabor's voice crying out to him.

"We need to talk."

Nayib turned intense eyes to the Vice President of the Federation, Colin Blanchard. He was a slim man with that lacquered look that experienced lifelong politicians create for an image of competence. He had light blue eyes and gray hair. "I said we need to talk."

Nayib met his gaze evenly. "Fuck you."

Blanchard regarded him and rose moving to stand behind him.

"You are Beyvahl of Dorvan V, Commander-In-Chief of the Maquis. We have your brother, Nayib, your father, Kolopak, your friends and colleagues. We have you all."

Nayib yawned, his gaze a picture of disinterest.

"Your father in particular is a find. Paris told me it was a mistake to bring him but we both know better don't we."

Nayib schooled his face into a mask of non-interest. Blanchard turned around and sat again, pulling his chair closer. "You are aware aren't you that the Federation has reinstated the death penalty for crimes against the state."

Nayib didn't show any emotion. He stared at Blanchard, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind.

"You can spare yourself and your father a lot of trouble. You can talk to us about the Maquis and we can see to it that nothing happens to either you, your father or your friends."

"Ah," Nayib said smirking. "We can *trust* you."

Blanchard regarded Nayib and smiled. "That was for this moment. You can trust us now."

Nayib snorted in spite of himself. "Now."

"Sure," Blanchard said. "Of course, you could not cooperate and we can take you all back to Earth and put you on trial for treason, murder and other various and sundry crimes which would upon your conviction lead to your summary execution."

"That of course is already assured, our convictions."

Blanchard smiled. "You can rest assured you will get the fairest fixed trial that we can arrange."

Nayib looked at him searching his face for some kind of clue to his character. Around him sitting silently, the others watched as well. Nayib sighed leaning forward as he did. Blanchard watched him and then leaned forward too turning his head for Nayib to whisper to him. Nayib leaned in closely and paused. "Blanchard," he whispered.

"Yes," Blanchard replied his voice as soft as Nayib's.

"FUCK YOU!" Nayib shouted watching with huge satisfaction as the smaller man sat back clutching his ear in pain.

Blanchard looked at him and rose in fury rubbing his ear as he did. "You'll wish you hadn't done that, you fucking bastard," he said nodding to the guards.

"I'm may be a fucker but at least, you little weasel I *know* who *my* parents are."

Hands grabbed him roughly and he was dragged laughing and struggling out of the door. Blanchard watched it close and turned, fury on his face and in his eyes. "Bring in his father," he said sitting once more on the chair.

**********Crazy Horse...

They moved forward through the mine field, dogging and turning, working their way back home. Passing the line marking their side, they opened throttle and moved on, hurrying toward the safety of their main base. They passed stepped up security, fighter patrols and gun ships, rotating along the border, first line defense against a kamikaze raid by the Federation. They were hailed as they went, the news of their success spreading ahead of them and by the time they reached the base world the entire area had been told.

They slipped into their berths and attached themselves to the silver cables that would re-energize their ships. Soon they would stand out again, making their way toward the battle once more but for now, for a little short while, they would stay here and bask in the warmth of their own people.

**********Later that hour...

They had shut her down, moving to the lift, heading for their various destinations. Chakotay had walked to his Ready Room intent on clearing up the business at hand. He also wanted to see if there was an update from Tom Riker on the delegation. The fear in his gut needed assuaging and he hoped to have more information regarding their whereabouts and condition. Tom rose from the conn looking around at the mostly empty room, the odd tech moving here and there his only company. He turned and walked toward the Ready Room, moving along the corridor to pause in the doorway. Chakotay was standing at his desk scanning his computer. "Any news?"

Chakotay glanced up, smiling slightly at the sight of Tom's presence. He shook his head. "Not yet."

"Your father will be all right. Your brother and the others, they'll be all right."

"You feel that do you?"

"Yeah. My father is with them."

Chakotay considered Tom's words. "You think he'll make this different?"

"He's the one who let me go."

Chakotay paused, moving from the desk to the middle of the room.

"Your father?" he asked incredulity in his voice.

Tom smiled moving to stand in front of him. "Yeah. I'm as surprised as you."

"There are stories here aren't there," Chakotay murmured pulling Tom into his arms.

Tom hugged Chakotay, closing his eyes with relief and pleasure. Chakotay's hands began their traverse of his back, the sensation of comfort warming him. He sighed and looked at the older man, the neediness he felt clear on his face. "What now?"

Chakotay sighed, mesmerized by Tom's face. "We go some place alone." Tom swallowed and nodded, leaning into Chakotay's kiss. "Let's go to my cabin, Tom. I've been living there since you were taken."

Tom nodded and turned, walking hand-in-hand with Chakotay to the door and the corridor beyond. Chakotay paused, letting Tom pass him and, with his hand resting on the small of Tom's back, they walked to the lift, entering and calling for Deck Four. Chakotay turned and gently pushed Tom backwards, pressing him against the lift wall. He leaned in, molding his own body against Tom's, moving to suck on the soft skin of his neck. Tom sighed, raising his leg slightly feeling the commander's muscular frame hard against his own. A spasm of lust rose through him and he wrapped his arms around Chakotay's broad shoulders. "You feel so good. You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

Chakotay sighed and looked at Tom, his eyes dark with desire. "I do," he whispered, stepping back to gaze on his lover. The lift stopped and they turned, walking together down the empty corridor. He keyed his door code and the two entered, lights coming on to add illumination. Tom paused and turned noting a picture on the wall.

"This is new I take it," he said no hint of amusement in his voice. He turned and looked at Chakotay who stood silently, his eyes on the picture that graced his wall. "I had it made when you disappeared. It helped me."

Tom noted it was a picture of himself smiling sitting on a rock on some unknown and forgotten Delta Quadrant beach. He was younger then he thought. Turning, he walked up to Chakotay, resting his hands on the older man's waist. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"It wasn't your fault, any of this. We just don't seem to have a lot of luck, Tom."

Tom snorted and slipped his arms around Chakotay's neck, hugging him tightly. They stood together, swaying gently and then Chakotay looked at Tom, a funny expression on his face.

"What?" Tom asked.

"You'll think I'm crazy."

Tom smiled. "Probably. Tell me anyway."

"All I could think of when you were gone was getting you back. I wanted to make love to you so badly it started getting into my dreams."

Tom nodded, his fingers stroking Chakotay's cheek. Chakotay stood silently and then he turned, flushing with embarrassment. Tom watched him and then stepped around him, resting his hands on Chakotay's shoulders. "What is it?" he asked, a note of worry creeping into his voice.

"I ... I just ..." Chakotay paused, embarrassment suffusing his face once more. "I just want you so much I don't think, I mean ..."

"You don't think you can do it just now," Tom finished softly.

Dark intense eyes rose to meet Tom's, eyes filled with passion and fire. They burned at Tom, the intensity filling Tom with a heat that he had never felt before. "It's all right, Chakotay," Tom said stroking Chakotay's face.

Chakotay blinked taking Tom's hand into his. He kissed the palm and pulled Tom into his arms. They stood together for a moment and then Chakotay looked at him, his eyes bright with tears. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered as tears slipped from his eyes.

"I can't imagine why you would feel this way, Chakotay," Tom whispered slipping his arms around the older man's shoulders. He kissed Chakotay softly sighing with passion against his wet cheek. "Your father is in custody of the bad guys along with Nayib and the others. Tabor is hurt. You and I, we've just come together again after a horrendous ordeal. The Federation and Star Fleet want us dead. We're caught in a war we might not win. It has fallen to you, the load of it and you wonder why you feel like you do."

Chakotay sighed. "I feel like I'm letting you down."

"You aren't, baby," Tom said kissing Chakotay again. "We have all night. We have all of the rest of our lives."

Chakotay nodded and pulled Tom into his arms, holding him tightly against his body.

"You need a massage and a soak. You need a good meal and a glass of wine. Let me help you relax," Tom said swaying gently with his lover.

"What about you? You were in a fucking mental hospital," Chakotay said the bite of emotion in his voice clear.

Tom sighed. "I'm going to be all right, Chakotay. Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you tonight."

"I want to make love to you, Tom. I just-"

Strong fingers stilled his lips and a soft voice shushed him. "It's all right, Chakotay," Tom said, leaning in to kiss his lover. Chakotay kissed him back, relaxing his tension once more and they embraced once again. "It's all right, baby. I'm here."

It was silent in the room as they stood together, the war a million miles away from their moment.

=0=


	19. Chapter 19

=0=

Book Nineteen: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

"How do you feel?"

He sighed, opening his eyes. "Better. A lot better."

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"Other than now?"

Tom smiled. "Yeah, other than now."

"I can't remember."

Tom sighed and shook his head. "You've been very bad."

"I know," Chakotay said closing his eyes against the comfort of Tom's fingers on his cheek. He was lying on the couch his head in Tom's lap. Candles flickered on the table before them, candles that he had found in a small shop on a Delta Quadrant planet. They gave a scent designed to relax you and he lay still, warm and content.

"Talk to me."

Chakotay sighed. "I don't know where to start."

"The beginning is nice," Tom replied stroking Chakotay's dark hair.

It was silent for a moment and then Chakotay opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling above them. "I turned to Tabor when we came back because I was so angry and so ..."

"Despairing?" Tom offered.

Chakotay looked up at him nodding. "Yeah. Despairing. It was all true, all the lies and deception were just so much bullshit. I turned to him and he let me. He's a good man, Tom, someone to hold me and talk to me and I was glad that he would."

"I have always liked him. He's a nice person, Chakotay. You couldn't have found someone better."

"No," Chakotay agreed. "When you married B'Elanna it was so hard to assimilate. You were with her and I would never have you. I made the best of it but when we returned and this happened, well ... I just couldn't cope alone."

"I know," Tom said gently.

"I wanted to be with you and when it was clear that B'Elanna was changed, I am ashamed to say that I was glad."

Tom sighed and nodded. "I'm still reeling over that. I don't know what happened."

"Hurt happened. Hurt that began a long time before she met you. I'm sorry for that, Tom. I'm sorry it didn't work out and I'm not sorry too. Do you know?"

"I know," Tom said, leaning down and kissing Chakotay softly. "I love you. I thought about you every day. I worried that something would happen to you before I could tell you."

"I knew," Chakotay said, sighing. He closed his eyes. "It was so hard wondering if you were all right. Riker told us you were in a mental institution. I was so afraid for you, what that could mean."

"My dad did that," Tom said, thinking back to days that seemed another lifetime ago. "He did it to keep me out of prison. He was afraid of letting me go back into a cage again."

Chakotay sighed. "You don't belong in one. None of us do, not after the Delta."

"Things aren't right here. My father told me that the war has bred apathy into the people about conflict. They're tired of it and hard liners run the Council. The President and Vice President ran on a 'law and order, win the war against the terrorists' platform and the people voted them in."

"Cows. They walk over the abyss together like cows," Chakotay said, sighing.

"Yeah. Lemmings. It isn't going to end except in blood is it."

Chakotay pondered a moment and then looked up at Tom. "I don't know. I hope not."

"Me too," Tom said leaning down and kissing Chakotay.

Chakotay's hand slipped around Tom's neck, holding him in place as he kissed the younger man back lingering on his lips.

"I love you," Chakotay whispered. "Hold me."

Tom nodded, watching as the older man rose holding out his hand. Tom took it and rose walking with him to the bedroom. Wordlessly Chakotay pulled off his shoes and socks, Tom following suit. He moved to lie down and Tom lay down beside him, turning to hold Chakotay as he moved closer. Entwining his arms and legs, Tom held the tense older man stroking his hair and listening to him sigh. It was quiet and dark, the room as silent as could be.

"This feels good," Chakotay murmured, his eyes heavy with emotional relief. He closed them the warmth of the moment and the comfort of Tom's body overpowering his tension and distress.

"Good," Tom said kissing the top of Chakotay's head.

"My father is hurt, I know it. So is Nayib and Tabor. We *have* to get them back."

"We will. We have too much going for us. We have inside people and my Dad wants to talk to us. I know him, Chakotay. He wasn't a party to this. I would bet my life on it."

"I hope so, Tom. I'm tired of liars."

"That's what she said."

"Who?"

"Kathryn. She said she was tired of liars."

Chakotay nodded slightly. "I know how she feels."

"Do you think they'll let her come with us?" Tom asked yawning with fatigue and emotional relief.

"I don't know. I don't think so unless she can prove her loyalty isn't just temporary."

"She might have seen the light," Tom suggested shifting slightly as Chakotay tightened his grip around Tom's body.

"Don't talk about her," he whispered moving again.

"Don't talk, Tommy."

Chakotay moved up pressing Tom down on the bed. He moved until he was staring down into Tom's face. Reaching out, he stroked Tom's cheek with the backs of his fingers, his dark eyes burning into Tom's with all his emotional tension. He leaned down and kissed the younger man, moving to settle on Tom's body.

Strong arms encircled him as Tom embraced him, pulling him closer. The silence was broken only by the soft sounds of love, movements of the bed and heavy breathing. Chakotay rolled over, sighing. He lay quietly his eyes closed as Tom turned onto his side. "God ... I'm sorry. I just-"

Tom's hand stilled his lips. Chakotay sighed against his fingers, his dark eyes looking up at soft blue ones. Tom moved closer, rising and carefully straddling his lover. Chakotay groaned slightly as Tom settled, gripping his legs as he sat staring down.

"You're so beautiful. I waited so long for you," Chakotay said, rubbing Tom's legs as he stared up at his flushed and slightly disheveled partner.

"I know," Tom said, leaning down, his fingers pulling at the buttons on Chakotay's shirt. Chakotay closed his eyes, lying still as Tom pulled his shirt apart, exposing warm dark skin.

Tom sighed and leaned down, kissing Chakotay softly, his lips moving across Chakotay's smooth chest. The older man shifted, his desire rising and Tom leaned forward, covering Chakotay's mouth with his own. Strong hands rose up the curve of Tom's back, pulling him forward. He braced his hands on either side of Chakotay's face, kissing him as he did and then he sat back up, pulling his own shirt off over his head.

Tom sat and stared at Chakotay, the older man's ands rubbing the soft skin of his chest, his fingers caressing golden hairs. Tom sighed and moved, rubbing against Chakotay's groin. The older man gasped and groaned, shifting to make more contact. He stared up at Tom, at the rapturous look on his flushed face and gripped Tom's legs.

"More, baby," Chakotay whispered, shifting again so that the friction increased. He moved to meet Tom, the electrical sensation moving through him, warming him in all his extremities. He closed his eyes and groaned.

Tom moved harder, pressing harder as he ground against his lover. The sounds from the older man were encouraging and Tom closed his eyes, concentrating on the task at hand. Faster and harder he moved and then he felt the molten heat flash out of his center, spreading like fury through every cell in his body. He tensed, sitting still as he shuddered through his orgasm.

Chakotay watched, his own passion still rising and watched Tom's face, the pained expression of orgasm flashing vividly across it. He pulled Tom into his body, rolling over to top him and then he began to move, grinding against the pilot with surety and passion.

Tom groaned and gripped him tightly, hanging on as Chakotay took him. Sweat stung his eyes as he moved with his lover, the sounds of passion from Chakotay music to his ears. Finally Chakotay tensed and growled, shuddering through his own climax. He shivered and then relaxed slowly, panting with effort as he lay on his lover.

Tom sighed and stroked Chakotay's hair, the damp silk as slippery as the rest of the big man. "That was good, Chakotay. It was what I needed."

"Thank you, Tom," Chakotay said, raising his head to stare into Tom's eyes. He kissed Tom softly and rolled over, lying by his side, his chest rising and falling with the effort expended. He sighed and reached, lacing his fingers through Tom's. Pulling Tom's hand up, he kissed it. "Next time ... It'll be better next time."

Tom smiled slightly. "I may need medical attention."

Chakotay snorted. "You're good for the ego."

"You're good for me."

Chakotay turned his head, looking at Tom quietly. "I know that now. We were meant for each other, Chakotay," Tom said. "After all the bullshit, after all the stupid crap, we're here, together. I don't ever want to lose you."

Chakotay tugged on Tom's hand and he moved, slipping into his arms, molding his long lanky body against Chakotay's. He sighed deeply, tucking his head into the dark damp crook of Chakotay's neck. "You're with me now. I want you with me, Tom,"

Chakotay said softly, his hand gently rubbing the cooling skin of Tom's back.

"I'm here, Chakotay. We'll solve this. I know it will be solved. We have to talk to my dad."

Chakotay nodded. "I know," he said quietly.

It was silent in the cabin as they lay together, the odd softly spoken comment the only sound. It was peaceful and calm. Just what they both needed. Outside, the business of war and retrieval went on but inside the cabin there was only peace.

**********Elsewhere...

"Your son wasn't very cooperative."

Kolopak stared placidly at the men sitting before him, watching him with cold eyes. He didn't give anything away. That was too dangerous. He could only guess what had happened with his son. They had been separated and imprisoned in a brig, guards and opaque force fields making communication impossible.

"The acorn didn't fall far from the tree, I can see," Blanchard remarked wryly. He sighed. "What I want to do is end this war. I want to end it so everyone can go home and live their lives. I can't imagine how you can't want that too."

Kolopak just stared at him.

"You do understand that the death penalty is now in force and that you and your son and the others are prime candidates for execution under Federation law."

"What else is new?" Kolopak answered dryly. "When you abandoned us ten years ago you left us under a death sentence then."

"That was ten years ago. Times have changed. *People* have changed. Do you understand how archaic, how out of step with the world you are?"

"Yes," he replied. "Honor, loyalty, oaths kept, dignity ... they appear to be less desirable traits in people these days."

Blanchard smiled, a cold humorless thing and leaned forward in his chair. "You don't want to die do you?"

Kolopak didn't answer, his eyes fixed on a point in space between them.

"Maybe I'm not asking the right questions. You don't want to see your *son* die, do you?"

Kolopak didn't blink, he didn't waver. He crushed the bile rising in his throat and turned cold dark eyes onto Blanchard. "You would kill him anyway. It's what people like you do, isn't it?"

Blanchard regarded him. "That's rich coming from you."

He rose and turned to guards. "Take him away."

Rough hands pulled Kolopak to his feet and he turned, walking out of the room as best he could in his shackles. The door closed and Blanchard stood thinking to himself for a moment or two. "I'll be at the hospital." With that, he turned and left the room.

**********Later that night...

Tom rose from Chakotay's embrace and walked quietly to the bathroom. The older man was sleeping, snoring softly Tom noted bemusedly. He pulled off his clothes and stuffed them down the refresher. Stepping into the shower, he turned on a jet of warm water. It cascaded over him, sliding down his lean body as it washed him free of the day's grime.

He stood quietly, his face taking the full blast of the jets when he noted another had joined him. Strong arms encircled him, pulling him into a stronger body and he leaned back, the two of them enjoying the silence together.

The arms let go and then hands returned, soaping his body as he stood quietly. Suds dripped down, running to the drain below and he felt the hands going lower, washing his legs and ass, his feet and then his back again. Tom turned, smiling, slipping his arms around his lover. They kissed softly, the sensation of being together in this manner comforting.

"You feel good. I never told you. I like your body."

Chakotay grinned. "I like yours. I think I have a thing for tall blonds."

"I noticed the blond thing. Um, Janeway isn't exactly tall."

"Not physically. She's sort of imposing in her own way."

Tom smiled. "She is that."

He leaned in and kissed Chakotay, the two standing together under the warm jets. It was silent for a moment and then the water flow stopped. Tom glanced at it and then Chakotay. "More?"

"No. I think I'm clean. I want to hold you."

Tom nodded, smiling. Turning, they stepped out and toweled off, moving once more to the bedroom. Chakotay reached into a drawer, tossing Tom spare sleep pants. Pulling on his own, he climbed back into the bed. Tom joined him, snuggling down once more. It was silent for a moment.

"Thank you."

Tom smiled. "Thank *you*. I can't remember the last time someone bathed me. I think it was my mother."

Chakotay snickered, the first sign of humor in the evening. "It seemed like the thing to do."

Tom grinned. "We have to make it a habit."

"We will," Chakotay agreed. "Are you disappointed?"

Tom thought a moment, raising his head to peer into Chakotay's eyes.

"About what?"

"About ... about tonight. About being together."

Tom sighed and smiled slightly. "No. Not a bit."

Chakotay considered his answer and relaxed. "It'll be different next time. I promise."

"I know," Tom replied, patting Chakotay's chest. "I know that, Chakotay. Don't worry. This was just right. It was just enough. We have the rest of our lives to work things out and I can't believe it'll always be this hard."

"I hope not," Chakotay agreed with a sigh. "Maybe we'll be free of all of this some day."

"Rest," Tom urged, pulling the covers up higher over the two of them.

Chakotay squeezed Tom's shoulders and closed his eyes. In minutes he was asleep. Tom followed him not long after.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

"How is he?"

"He's recovering. We can't get through to the Bajoran Embassy on the Klingon home world."

"Why would you need to do that?" Blanchard asked turning with curiosity to the doctors behind him.

"He's not responding well to our antibiotics."

"I see," Blanchard replied, turning to stare at the bandaged Bajoran lying silently on the bed before him. "Can you wake him?"

"Wake him?" the surgeon asked surprised.

"Yes. I need to talk to him."

"I ... I suppose we can. May I ask why you need to talk to this man?"

Blanchard was quiet a moment and then he turned, his cold eyes fixing on the surgeon. "No. You may not."

=0=

Book Nineteen: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

It was late when Riker left his girlfriend's cabin, walking through the nearly deserted corridors toward his own. It had been a full day waiting in space for a message from the

Maquis. The Maquis Commander-In-Chief, whoever that was now had sent a message stating that they were considering a face to face meet. Tom Riker knew that this would mean Beyvahl and perhaps Chakotay. He knew that Blanchard held Kolopak and Nayib, the two men taken in the double cross. Entering his cabin, he noted the flickering signal on his computer terminal. Punching it on, Picard's voice filled the room. "Number One, I would like to speak with you when you return. Come to my cabin as soon as you can."

Riker considered the request and then turned, walking to the door and the lift beyond. It was a short ride to Picard's cabin and when he pressed the chime, he could hear Picard's voice. "Come."

The door slid open and Riker entered, noting that Picard was sitting at his desk, teacup beside him as the computer screen flickered.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Good evening, Will," Picard said rising and moving to the couch. "I've been talking to Admiral Paris."

"I see."

Picard sat setting his cup down on the table before him. He motioned Riker to join him. Admiral Paris is not pleased with the turn of events since negotiations began."

"I noted that from your earlier comments," Riker replied.

"In fact, he's removed Star Fleet from the process. He's pursuing his own diplomatic solution and from what I hear out of Star Fleet Command, he has the support of the top brass."

Riker considered this turn of events. "Then the politicians have lost their grip over us. We're no longer an arm of their enforcement."

"Oh, we're still subject to their control. That's in the Federation Charter. What's different now is Blanchard can't use us to further his ends. Apparently, the two senior Admirals to Paris made a few highly emotional calls to key bureaucrats and politicians in the government and Blanchard no longer has their support. At least for some parts of his plan."

"Weasels," Riker said sitting back against the couch, his mind running through the possibilities of this new information. "So, what you're saying is ... Star Fleet and the Federation High Council are pursuing the same objective independently of each other?"

"It would appear to be so," Picard replied. "What *we* have to do is convince the Maquis that we're sincere in desiring negotiation and that it's in their best interests to join us in a sincere dialog of grievances."

"We'd have to show them a token of our sincerity. We could turn over their party and perhaps Kolopak as well to show them that we're sincere."

"Blanchard has them. He won't give them up."

"The Maquis will never trust us," Riker said shaking his head.

"That's where we have to *make* things happen, Number One. You do remember your ... twin brother don't you? Tom Riker?"

Tom blinked, surprised by Picard's question. "My brother?"

"I realize that this is not a happy topic for discussion with you, Will, but these aren't happy times."

Riker nodded and stared at Picard, puzzled completely by this turn of the conversation. "You are aware of the great fortune and technological know how that your brother has amassed through astute business dealings in the Federation. In fact, your brother is a leading supplier to the bases and forward encampments that dot the DMZ. He's an essential industrialist in the Federation and has contacts on both sides of the DMZ. You are aware that he spent years in Cardassian prison camps before being liberated?"

"I am aware of it."

"Do you communicate?" Picard asked, noting the shuttered expression on his friend's face.

"No," Riker said remembering the two times he had tried and was met with silence.

"Since the array is down, no communications can be sent in and out of the frontier unless they're piggybacked from ship-to-ship relay."

Riker nodded, his dark eyes revealing nothing of the emotions rising inside of him. "What we want to do is have the Maquis talk to us through an intermediary with credibility inside their circles. Tom Riker is a man who was a Maquis, who suffered the same torments that many Maquis did and therefore if he would

approach them, he would have access to them."

"And then what?" Riker asked quelling the distaste and anger rising inside.

"Once they agree to talk then we can talk. All we need is someone to get them to come and listen."

"This is duplicity."

"Yes," Picard said watching Riker curiously. "But it would only be for a moment. The negotiations would be what we want, not fooling them beyond getting them to the table."

Riker nodded. "So if we do this *how* do we do it?"

"We want you to compose a message to the Maquis stating who you are and asking for a meeting. Tell them that Star Fleet means to carry out a fair and open negotiations for a cease fire and eventual peace. Tell them that we mean business."

"And if they want to speak to me?"

"We'll let them. You can take a shuttle to wherever they agree to speak."

Riker nodded rising and hesitating. "I suppose that I do this now."

"That would be very useful, Number One," Picard said smiling slightly.

Riker nodded and turned, walking to the door. He paused. "What if they ask me something I can't answer?"

Picard smiled slightly. "That's where my confidence in your ability to improvise comes into play."

Riker nodded and turned, walking out the door. It slid shut and Picard picked up his cup, sighing deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he had been forced to be so devious but he was sure it was tied into Dorvan V. With a sigh, he drained his cup and moved toward the bedroom to sleep.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

"I see," Blanchard replied, turning to stare at the bandaged Bajoran lying silently on the bed before him. "Can you wake him?"

"Wake him?" the surgeon asked surprised.

"Yes. I need to talk to him."

"I ... I suppose we can. May I ask why you need to talk to this man?"

Blanchard was quiet a moment and then he turned, his cold eyes fixing on the surgeon. "No. You may not."

The surgeon looked at him, dislike animating every pore in his body. "This man is my patient."

"This *man* is my prisoner. Revive him."

For a moment there was no movement and then the doctor turned, picking up a hypospray from a tray next to the bed. Turning again, he set the dial and pressed it against the sleeping man's neck. It hissed softly and slowly, wearily, the figure opened his eyes.

Blanchard stared at him, at the half bandaged face and considered his questions. "Who are you?"

Tabor blinked his eyes, turning toward the sound. A man's face materialized and he swallowed. "Nayib?" he asked trying to focus on the blur standing over him.

"Yes," Blanchard said, moving closer to Tabor. "It's me."

"Thank the prophets," Tabor whispered. "You're all right?"

"Yes," Blanchard said. "Talk to me. Tell me everything."

"What? Tell you what?" Tabor asked puzzlement filling his mind.

"What was the plan?" Blanchard asked. "What can you tell me about the cloaked ships?"

Tabor swallowed again, raising a hand slightly before it fell back to the bed weakly. "I don't know what you mean."

"The cloaked ships. Where are they?"

"Space," Tabor said upset rising in him. "They're in space."

The diagnostic bed registered the rise in his blood pressure and the doctor moved part Blanchard, checking monitors as he did. Turning, his face filled with anger, he confronted Blanchard. "That's enough," he said his voice filled with anger.

Blanchard stared at him, noting his unbending rage and turned, walking wordlessly toward the door. He paused, turning back to regard the tableau behind him. "Get him well. I want to interrogate him."

With that, Blanchard turned and walked out the door. A nurse standing by the bed turned and noted Tabor's discomfort. "He's feeling pain, doctor," he said, glancing at the silent and rage-filled physician beside him.

The doctor turned and pressed another hypo against the Bajoran's neck. "There. Any word on the antibiotics from the Embassy?" he asked turning to the skin specialist.

"The array has been taken down by the Maquis, apparently in deference to this whole mess. We aren't going to be getting anywhere that route."

"Shit," the doctor said, furiously thinking.

"What about the ships in port? Can they relay a message for us?"

"I'll get on it," the specialist said turning and walking to an open terminal.

The doctor stared at his patient, fury warring with concern. They were losing the battle with this one, the chance of permanent scarring growing with each hour that passed. He turned

and stared at the door. "Fucker. Thank god I didn't vote for him," he whispered.

"You and me both, Jim," the nurse replied, his eyes never leaving the still figure on the bed.

**********In a corridor leading to the Brig...

He walked along, things mulling in his mind and when he reached the prison entrance, he had a few more points sorted out. Passing the check station, he walked with a guard to the maximum security-segregation cells that housed the Maquis delegation. As he passed each cell, he could see in but the prisoners couldn't see out. The opaque force fields shielded them from looking out and dampened noise levels as well.

He paused before Nayib's cell and nodded to the guard. He pressed a button and the force field shifted. Sitting on a bunk, leaning back against the wall, Nayib stared up at the sight of the cell field changing. He could see Blanchard and a guard standing outside, staring in. Blanchard smiled, noting the absence of reaction in the other man. Admirable trait he thought. "You seem to be acclimatizing to your new life well."

Nayib shrugged.

"I just had a chat with a member of your delegation, a Bajoran."

A pulse of fear slammed through Nayib but it didn't reach his face. Years of concealment had taken care of that character defect.

"This Bajoran, a small dark-haired man ... he's in the hospital. He has burns over thirty percent of his body, including his face. Did you know that?"

Nayib sat quietly, the horror of it filling him with a despair he had never felt before. He just stared at Blanchard.

"He's going to be scarred. It's obvious that he's a handsome man, or should I say, *was* a handsome man. He and I had a chat."

"Really," Nayib replied dryly.

"Yes, *Nayib*, we did."

Nayib looked at him and then rose, moving toward the barrier between them. "'Nayib'? Surely you have made a mistake."

"I don't think so. Tabor didn't think so. Of course, he's incredibly ill," Blanchard said, a smile growing on his face.

A flicker of hatred crossed Nayib's face and Blanchard smiled, catching it. "So, we do have a connection after all. Tell me, *Nayib*, what is this Bajoran to you? A friend? A companion? A ... lover perhaps?"

Nayib shrugged. "Live in your fantasies, Blanchard. Whatever makes you happy."

Blanchard laughed and shook his head. "You have no *idea* how happy I am right now. Star Fleet has decided to make their own negotiations. So be it," he said, his expression hardening. "I have you, your father, your *lover* ... I have the cards. We'll see how this turns out."

With that, Blanchard turned and walked away, the barrier falling into opaque dimness once again. For a long time Nayib stood before it and then, with fear and loathing suffusing him, he turned and walked back to the bunk once more.

**********Crazy Horse...

Tom sighed and turned over in bed, stretching as he did. Chakotay wasn't there, movements in the next room alerting him to his whereabouts and so Tom rose and walked to the bathroom, relieving himself and pulling clothes out of the refresher. He turned, noting Chakotay's smiling face. "Replicate a Maquis uniform. I like you in leather."

Tom grinned. "Don't tell me you're a leather man."

"Could be," Chakotay replied, moving closer. He kissed Tom softly. "Could be a lot of things."

"This might be interesting," Tom said, grinning as he turned and coded a uniform. It materialized and he took it, following his lover to the next room. Dressing quickly, he walked to the day room, noting the food sitting on the table. "For me?"

"Sure," Chakotay said, smiling slightly. "Least I can do after last night."

"How long are you going to dwell on your mortality?"

"My mortality?" Chakotay asked, grinning slightly as he looked up from the computer.

"Sure," Tom said, sipping his coffee. "You forget that you're a mortal man, a vessel of flesh and blood. You get tired, you get scared, it comes out of you in strange ways."

"Yeah, well, that's never happened to me before," Chakotay said, sighing.

"You've never been in this position before either," Tom countered, taking his plate and walking to the desk. He leaned in and kissed his lover.

"Bacon. So that's what it tastes like," Chakotay said, licking his lips, his nose wrinkling slightly.

"Sorry. You're a vegetarian."

"Don't worry about it. Look at this."

Tom moved closer, putting his plate down. He stared at the message and turned to Chakotay, surprise on his face. "Tom Riker, who is portraying Will Riker, is going to be coming to speak to us pretending to be Tom Riker."

"That about sums it up," Chakotay grinned, smiling at the expression on Tom's face. He reached out and touched Tom's cheek with his fingers. "I can't promise you what might come out of all this but I promise you an interesting time."

Tom grinned and leaned forward, kissing Chakotay softly on the lips.

"It sure is. What does it mean?"

"I think it means that your father is one pissed hombre right now, Tom."

"I think you're right, babe," Tom said, just before Chakotay kissed him.

=0=

Book Nineteen: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

The message was received and a meeting of the Council was called. Chakotay beamed down, walking through the crowd to the conference room where everyone waited. He entered, noting several people who had been imprisoned with his father and Tuvok standing and sitting as they waited for him. Nodding to Bey, he sat in the proffered chair next to Tuvok and waited.

"This is a historic occasion. The entire board with two notable exceptions is present. As it stands, we have to pick up the slack created by the absence of my father and brother.

"We received a communication from Star Fleet, notable not only in having been sent but by whom. As you have been informed, Will Riker was replaced by his doppelganger his twin brother, Tom. Tom has been posing as Will for months now. He sent us a message posing as Will. Attached to it was a complete assessment of the

situation as he saw it."

"The message you sent to me this morning," Tuvok said, glancing at Chakotay.

"Yes," Bey continued. "He believes that the Federation is bound by politics and attitude to punish us, even destroy us. He believes that Star Fleet has another agenda, one of ending the conflict and building some kind of peaceful settlement between the two sides."

"You trust them," a Klingon woman said, one of the rescued Councilors.

"I trust Tom's judgment. After all, they don't know who he really is and he has Picard's confidence."

"Does he have Paris'?" she asked, her tone clear in her own view.

"Paris is on our side," Chakotay said, glancing at his brother.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at him.

"Because I do," Chakotay said, meeting her gaze firmly.

Bey noted his brother and sat back, considering his words. "Good enough for me," he said, glancing over at the councilor. She nodded, relaxing. "We want both of you to go out and meet the shuttle that will be carrying Riker to us. With him will be the android, Commander Data and a Betazoid, Deanna Troi."

"Betazoid?" a councilor said, startled. "This can't be good."

"It's great, actually. This woman is the lover of Will Riker. Because she is, she cancelled out the threat she is to us herself. Will Riker's continued well being is strictly in her hands."

"But," the councilor persisted, her blue Bolianface registering surprising emotion. "Do you believe it will be enough for her to participate in essentially treason?"

"She's in up to her neck already. She has known about Tom from the start. Telling now will not only get her a dead lover, it'll get her twenty to life at the big house," Bey said, rising and walking to the view screen. He pressed a button. "You will rendezvous here, cloaked and ready. Chakotay, you bring him onboard. Tuvok, you cover him."

They both nodded.

"I would like you to go now."

They nodded again and rose, pausing as they waited for dismissal.

"You know what to do, gentlemen," Bey said, tossing a stylus onto the table. "Just be careful and come home to us. We have people out there who need us."

They nodded and both turned, walking to the door and the corridor beyond. Chakotay glanced at Tuvok, noting his usual unemotional expression. However, given the years that they had known each other, Chakotay could tell that a lot of the tension in his partner was gone. "How is your son?" he asked.

"Sek is well. He is ... glad to be away from the prison on Earth."

"I can imagine he's happy to be with his father."

"He is ... pleased to be of use once more."

Chakotay smiled. "He's a great young man. You must be very proud."

Tuvok hesitated, moving to let Chakotay enter the transporter room first. "I am," he said simply, a shadow of relief and pride hidden in his deceptively inadequate reply. They stepped onto the platform and in seconds vanished to their respective ships. At the same time working through the supply database that kept Maquis munitions flowing to where they were needed Sek of Vulcan began his new life as a Maquis.

**********Far away...

She sat on the back porch, rocking on the glider that her son had favored during the brief moments he had been back with them. Miriam Paris considered the situation that they had found themselves in. Tom was gone, returned to the Maquis because her

husband couldn't keep him safe here. The idea of the Maquis being safer than the Federation was intimidating to her. They had talked for hours when Tom had disappeared, Owen working to quell the overwhelming despair and fear that had threatened her sanity.

Her boy had returned and then he was gone, his emotional and physical safety not guaranteed beyond a wishful hope that he would be all right in the company of outlaws, many of whom loved him. She wondered about his wife, about the woman that she would in all likelihood never meet. Obviously, this woman was special because she had captured her son's heart. That was no mean feat. That they had not survived together as a couple was another mystery to her thinking.

It was warm on the deck, the ocean beyond glistening like jewels. Far away, involved in a dance of death and deception, were her son and husband, two men that she loved deeply. What would happen was anyone's guess. What she could do herself? She wasn't completely clear but she had ideas. Rising with a new found determination, Miriam Campbell-Paris turned and walked inside to place a few calls of her own.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

Tabor lay in a drug-induced fog, noting movements around him without really knowing who and what they were.

"He seems to be more lucid, doctor," a familiar voice said.

His nurse peered into his one good eye and shined a light. Tabor blinked, turning to focus on its beam. He sighed, licking his lips.

"Tabor? Can you hear me?" a soft voice asked.

"Nayib?" he whispered back, his blood pressure rising once more.

"No," the voice said. "This is John. I'm your nurse."

"Why?" Tabor asked, confusion rising through the fog of his mind.

"You were hurt. You're with us now. We're taking care of you."

Tabor sighed, fear pulsing in all directions of his mind, shoving coherency out the window. "No! Where's Nayib? He's hurt? Where is this!"

John gently pressed him back. "Don't struggle like this, Tabor. You'll hurt yourself. Please, relax."

"Nayib. I have to see him. Where is he?" Tabor asked a tear trickling down his cheek.

"I'll find out," John lied. "Just lie back and relax. I'll find out and let you know."

Tabor relaxed, the pain throbbing through him. He sighed, a soft sob escaping his lips as he began to weep. John looked over his shoulder noting that no one was around. He leaned down close to Tabor's ear. "I'll see what I can do," he whispered giving in to his better judgment.

Tabor lay quietly, his face turned away as he wept. John pulled up a chair and sat on it considering the state of the man on the bed. There was probably nothing he could do about finding out about this Nayib person. However part of him pondered how he could find out as he sat watching his patient.

**********Liberty...

Kira Nerys hurried down the hallway, moving to her quarters before they had to shove off again. Things were going very fast and she had little time to reflect on what was happening. As she entered the lift a voice called out to wait. Pausing, she noted that Miles O'Brien was hurrying down the corridor. He entered the lift and the door shut.

"Hi. Long time no see," he said, leaning back against the wall.

"Long time no see yourself," she replied, lapsing into awkward silence.

"So, how's things on the Bridge? How did it feel to fire on Deep Space Nine?"

"Lift, halt."

The machinery paused as she stared at her cohort with anger.

"Do you think I enjoyed that?"

"No, I don't," Miles said, sighing deeply.

"I didn't," she fumed, clenching and unclenching her fists. "At least we hit the guns and the docking doors. I pray that no one was killed."

"I can get the stats on the raid if you want me to," Miles offered, noting that Tuvok kept meticulous records. "I hear there were injuries but no deaths. Apparently the top brass wanted a message with as little blood shed as possible."

Kira exhaled a deep breath. "This is something I would have never guessed I would ever do. I mean ... I'm here and I'm taking a part in this by choice, right?"

Miles nodded.

"But ... this means fighting our friends, our colleagues. This means taking on the people we belong to."

"I guess," Miles said quietly, "That's what it means to be a Maquis."

She stared at him and then glanced away. "Probably," she agreed emphatically. "Probably. I just don't have to like it."

He nodded and sighed himself. "Eat dinner with us tonight. Misery loves company."

"Will Julian be off same shift as us? We may run right through. We're going back toward Khitomer."

"I'll find out and message you on the Bridge," Miles said. "Lift, continue."

They rode on in silence and when they reached Miles' deck, he stepped off, turning and giving her an encouraging nod. She nodded back, a slight smile on her face. The lift door closed and she rode on alone, reaching the Bridge in seconds. The door opened and she stepped out, pausing to stare around the room.

People were working, doing their part in the pre-flight ritual. In minutes they would stand out with Crazy Horse and they would go back to the war once more. In minutes she would be a part of the opposition to all that she had belonged to. It was with a strange mix of emotions that she moved to her station once more.

**********Crazy Horse...

They pulled out of port, heading out through the minefield to the Federation side of the DMZ. Running invisibly, they sped toward the rendezvous point, content in their safe passage. Chakotay sat in his chair, Tom sitting at the conn and as they flew, he felt a comfortable feeling of 'rightness' washing over him.

It was as it should be, both moving together into whatever came and he considered the journey ahead. The coordinates for their arrival had been sent with Riker's message asking them to meet.

They had stood out and traveled at top warp to reach their destination quickly. Chakotay was not only looking forward to meeting his compatriot but also in having a long conversation with him over a number of more personal items.

They had flown for hours before they reached the leading edge of their enemy's territory. Passing ships of the line, new ones they noted sent in from other places, they slipped in heading for a hypothetical spot in space. Chakotay rose and turned, walking to his Ready Room. Entering, he gathered up the work that was always there including the request by Kathryn Janeway, currently under house arrest on the Maquis home world pending dispensation of her case.

He had been asked his opinion, his brother ever thoughtful in matters of the soul. Bey had somehow seen into him again and saw things that even Chakotay refused to acknowledge. He sighed. He didn't know what to say. He would have to see her, talk to her and make a judgment. Before, he would have said yes. Now? He didn't know who she was. He did know that he had a debt to her.

She had helped spring Tom. She was responsible for the modicum of happiness that had taken root in his cold aching heart. It bothered him to owe her, the changes in their circumstances too dramatic to make things the way they once were. But he would see what he could do. He owed the past that much if nothing else.

Putting that aside, he considered the meeting that they would have with Riker. Having Data along would be interesting, the idea of an android with humanistic characteristics not exactly a new thing for the old Voyager crew. However, one who had attained rank and reputation in Star Fleet would be.

They would be at the rendezvous shortly and the meeting would be held on board Liberty. They would show the flag, so to speak, and let the Federation know they weren't people to trifle with. Rising, he turned and walked out the door, heading for the Bridge once more. Moving to his chair, he sat and willed himself to relax. His father and brother, T'Lau and the others depended on the next few hours. He would have to be very, very good.

**********In an shuttle, at a point in time...

Riker sat musing on their situation when the jot of code that signaled the presence of the two ships burst over the open com line. He sat straighter, glancing at Data, the smooth and emotionless face of the android oddly comforting. "Send the return signal, Data."

The android complied and before their eyes a ship uncloaked. It was white, big and an Intrepid class ship of the line. Down one side of its hull, where the Federation registration numbers should be was a bird of prey, a symbol of her captain and the

Maquis spirit. "Well, well, well ... it's the wondrous Commander Chakotay."

"How do you know?" Data asked, glancing curiously at the man beside him.

"The bird of prey. It's an eagle. The eagle feather is sacred to American Indians. I would deduce that this is his symbol."

"Clever," Data said, a slight grin on his face.

"Open a channel, Data."

"Aye, sir."

"Crazy Horse, this is the Federation shuttle Darwin. I am hoping to speak to Captain Chakotay."

There was a pause and then a mellow voice broke the silence. "This is Chakotay. Are you prepared to beam over?"

"Yes sir," Riker said, glancing back toward Troi, who sat pale and silent in the engineer's seat. It was silent for a moment and then the feeling of dematerialization overtook them, moving them from their shuttle to the main transporter room on the waiting ship. They stood a moment, noting that leather-clad Maquis were standing down from them, several of them heavily armed.

Riker scrutinized the group, noting the tall tanned man standing in the center. Tattoo, dark eyes and hair, he surely had to be Chakotay. He stepped forward, a neutral look on his face. "Captain Chakotay I presume."

"Check him out," the tall man said, nodding to his security.

They moved forward, scanning the three with tricorders. The biggest turned and nodded. With that, Chakotay turned and walked out of the room. The security turned and began to herd the three with them. They stepped out into the corridor and down toward the lift.

Stepping in, the group rode to deck four, turning and walking toward a lounge where people stood around the door silently. Entering, they turned and Chakotay gestured toward a table with chairs around it. They moved and sat, waiting as the tall Maquis whispered quietly to a tall Vulcan. Both men then turned and sat, staring across the table at the three. "My name is Chakotay. This is my colleague, Tuvok."

"I'm Commander Will Riker of the Federation star ship Enterprise. These are my associates, Commander Data and Commander Deanna Troi."

"You're a Betazoid," Tuvok said, his dark eyes regarding her sternly.

"I am."

"Hardly a sign of good faith bringing a telepath to a meeting like this," Chakotay said, glancing from Riker to Troi and back again.

"I think the same could be said for you, Captain," Riker said, his eyes flickering toward Tuvok.

"What does Paris want?" Chakotay cut back, noting the silence and discomfort of the Betazoid.

"He wants to find a way toward peace, toward a settlement that can accommodate everyone. He expresses his intense surprise and dismay at what happened on Khitomer. That was not part of the plan that he had been apprised of."

"He was a negotiator chosen by the Federation to represent their interests. I find it interesting that you would tell me that the Federation apparently double-crossed one of their own people."

"They did," Riker said, sighing. "The Admiral is very, very pissed if I might say frankly."

Chakotay stared at him and then the others, returning his dark eyes to Riker. Leaning forward on his elbows, his eyes bore into Riker's. "Do go on," he said, his voice a soft whisper.

=0=

Book Nineteen: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

She walked to the lounge, sitting on a chair by the window. It had been more than a year since she had been told that her son was taken by the Maquis. His ship, the Sorrel Bay had been taken by the Maquis too. They were in all likelihood going to have to meet her again and she would not be flown by anyone she knew. Behind her, people sat together only marginally subdued by the serious nature of their mission. They talked together and made conversation. They went on with their lives. She had too, moving through the days doing her job.

It was all she could do.

Guinan watched as Beverly Crusher sat by the window, staring out into space by herself. She sighed and pulled out a special drink, filling two glasses. Moving with her usual deceptive calmness, she walked over and sat one of them down. Smiling, she took a chair opposite the silent woman. "May I join you?" she asked her expressive face filled with kindness.

Beverly Crusher looked at the glass and then the woman across from her. "I would love it if you do," she said, sighing with emotion.

"Good," Guinan said, smiling. She raised her glass and smiled broader. "Good."

**********Liberty...

They had talked for about an hour before Chakotay rose and walked to the window. He stared at the stars beyond and then he turned again. "I want to speak to you alone," he said noting

the rise in concern in Troi's expression.

Tuvok nodded and guards stepped forward. "You will go with the guards."

Data looked at Riker, who nodded and then rose, joined by Troi. Turning, they were shepherded out of the room. When the door closed everyone relaxed. Chakotay walked over and extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Tom," he said as Riker rose and took his hand.

"Good to meet you too, Chakotay," Riker said, smiling.

"Tell us what's happening. What about our people?" Chakotay asked, a trace of anxiety in his voice.

"Things got out of hand. Blanchard had his own plan and executed it, taking everyone into custody. There was shooting and some of them were hit."

"Tabor? My father and Nayib?" Chakotay asked, his voice filled with tension.

"I was told that they were hurt. Tabor is burned. He got hit by phasers and a Klingon disruptor."

"God," Chakotay said, rubbing his face with his hand. "We have wounded then."

"Yes," Tom said. "I think that your father and Nayib were hit but I don't think they were hurt very badly. More that they were stunned."

"Shit," Chakotay said, shaking his head. "Who has them?"

"Blanchard. Admiral Paris and Blanchard had some epic discussions as I've been led to believe and in the end Paris got Star Fleet severed from the negotiations. They're free to pursue their own."

Chakotay nodded. "So we have to talk. We want our people. Have they been told about the prison break back on Earth?"

"I think it's known but I haven't been told about it. A heavily encrypted message came into Picard's Ready Room about two days into the three day window for signaling that it had transpired. He seemed especially grim for a while. So I take it that they know about it."

"The array is down. Deep Space Nine?" Chakotay asked.

"Stitched and disabled. There were injuries but no loss of life. The targeting was dead on if I might say so myself."

Chakotay nodded, oddly relieved. "What does Paris want us to do?"

"He wants to meet with you in neutral space and negotiate a ceasefire. He wants to set an agenda of mutual concerns and begin a dialog of possible solutions."

"You believe that he's sincere in his desire to find a solution to this conflict?" Tuvok asked.

Riker considered his words and looked at the Vulcan. "Yes, I do."

"It would be advantageous in that case to do what we can to support Admiral Paris' efforts. The alternative would be to deal with Blanchard," Tuvok said, turning and looking at the silent man by the window.

Chakotay nodded. "We should pursue this. Your job was what? To get us to talk?"

Riker nodded. "Yes. I'm the bait to lure you into negotiations but I believe that Paris is going to be truthful and sincere in his desire to find common ground and get talks going. Right now I see the battle being between the hard liners in the High Council and Star Fleet."

Chakotay sighed and nodded. "All right. Tell him we'll meet to talk. Tell him to signal his requirements to us. Tell him that a shuttle with our people will meet him. I am assuming that he'll be on Enterprise?"

Riker nodded.

"Then so be it. The cloaked ships will be nearby and if there's any bullshit we'll take out another station and another until they get it that we mean business."

Riker nodded. "I'll tell him."

Chakotay relaxed. "Thanks. We appreciate your efforts more than you can know."

Riker grinned. "I talked to your father while we were on our way here. He misses you."

Chakotay swallowed hard. "I miss him too. You can't talk to him or Nayib can you."

Riker shook his head. "They're in the Brig on Khitomer."

Chakotay nodded. "What is your timetable for Enterprise?"

"I have to report in or leave in less than an hour."

"Leave then," Chakotay said. "Tell them what we decided on. We'll be listening for your reply."

Riker nodded and extended his hand, taking Chakotay's in a firm grip. "You'll hear from me shortly."

Chakotay nodded, walking to the doorway with him. "I'll see what I can do about the team," Riker said.

"Thanks," Chakotay said, nodding.

With that, the men turned and walked out the door, heading for the transporter room where the others sat waiting. Rising, they turned and stepped up on the platform, wordlessly beaming away. By the time they had materialized on the shuttle the ship had recloaked and was gone. Data moved to the conn, sitting down beside Riker as he began to plot the return to Enterprise.

Behind him, sitting silently, Deanna Troi watched, filled with anxiety over what had transpired out of her presence. No matter what it was there was nothing she could do about it without jeopardizing Will's life. Of that amid all the other uncertainties was one thing she could count on.

**********Far away..

She walked down the hallway, moving along the corridor, searching for a particular person's office. She had searched him out, knowing that he would be the one who would know what she was about without a lot of chitchat. By the time she found it, she had passed most of the people who worked at FNN. Entering the correct office, she noted a very young looking man sitting on a chair conversing with someone long distance. He looked up and motioned for her to sit. She did and waited, noting that he finally clicked off. Turning to her, he picked up a padd. "It's about time you got here. We have a deadline to meet. If you could just-"

"What are you talking about?" she asked leaning back slightly from the younger man.

He blinked and sat up straighter. "What do you mean? We have a deadline. You're Delores Rivers from Data aren't you?"

"No. I'm Miriam Campbell-Paris."

Jake Sisko looked blankly at her for a moment and the clarity dawned.

"Miriam Paris as in *Admiral Owen Paris*?" he asked, his eyes widening.

She smiled slightly. "Bingo," she said, leaning back against her chair, bemused at the transformation before her. "I have something to talk about and I'm wondering ..."

"What?" Jake asked, putting the padd down on his desk.

"I'm wondering if I came to the right place," she said, uncertainty in her voice.

"You have! Trust me!" Jake said, turning and digging for a new padd. "Now, how can I help you, Mrs. Paris?"

**********Enterprise...

Tom Riker entered the Bridge, followed by Commander Data and Deanna Troi. They walked together to the Captain's Ready Room and entered, noting the Captain sitting at his desk."You're back," he said, nodding to them. "Mr. Data, you're dismissed."

"Very good, sir," Data said, turning and walking from the room.

"Well, how did it go?"

"They're ready to talk to us," Riker said, noting that Troi moved to sit on the couch. He moved to join her, noting her stiff demeanor.

"Good. We'll transmit the coordinates of the meeting place in the same manner. Anything that you can tell me about them? About their frame of mind?"

"They're absolutely livid over their team," Riker began. "They want them back."

"We can't help them there," Picard said, looking at Troi.

"What about the Maquis you saw, Counselor? What can you tell me?"

She looked at him, her eyes flickering to Riker. "He's right. They want their people back."

"We just can't accommodate that," Picard repeated. "Well, they won't be mollified until they get their people back. The leader, the one called Chakotay, he wants his father and his brother."

Picard nodded. "That might be achieved after we get some sort of headway going on this negotiation process. If we can make progress the Federation will have less call to hold them. After all, they have prisoners too."

"Wesley," Troi said quietly.

"They gave him up with Sorrel Bay to set them up," Riker said shaking his head. "What does it mean that the crew are prisoners when they are responsible for them being there in the first place?"

"That was then," Picard said, rising and moving to the replicator. As he did, Troi rose.

"Is there anything else, Captain?" she asked. "No, Counselor. You may go."

She turned and walked out, the door closing behind her. Picard paused and glanced at Riker. "I don't mean to get into your private affairs, Commander, but is there something wrong between the two of you?"

Riker shrugged, taking a cup of coffee from Picard. "We've decided to step back a little," Riker said, sitting down on the couch.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Picard said, sitting down at his desk.

"Things happen, Captain," Riker said, shrugging with faux sorrow.

"I see," Picard said sighing. "What do you think, Will? What is the picture as you see it?"

"If you don't lie to them, if you tell them the truth and work above board I think you'll have success. If you give them even a micro millimeter of a reason to distrust you, I think you better

get the body bags ready."

Picard nodded. "I will make note of that to the Admiral."

Riker nodded. "Good. I think we may have only one good shot at this. You can't overstate the amount of rage they have over the last attempt."

"I will tell the Admiral," Picard said.

**********Captain's Cabin, Crazy Horse...

Tom cleared the table, moving to the couch where Chakotay waited, wine glasses in hand. He took his and sat down beside Chakotay. "So basically they're going to come and talk."

"So it seems."

"My dad, he means business, Chakotay. I know it."

"I hope so," Chakotay said, putting his glass down. He turned and moved closer to Tom. He took Tom's glass and set it down as well.

"Feeling foxy?" Tom asked, turning to face his lover.

"Maybe," Chakotay said, leaning in and kissing Tom's neck.

Strong fingers threaded through Chakotay's dark hair as Tom tilted back his head. He sighed, the soft sweet sensations delightful to his weary mind. Chakotay slipped his arms around Tom, pulling him closer.

"You have hidden talents," Tom whispered.

"You taste good," Chakotay said, smiling.

"More," Tom said, stroking Chakotay's face. "Do me."

Chakotay sighed and pulled the younger man closer. "Tough duty," Chakotay whispered before he pushed his partner down onto the couch.

**********On another ship...

"We have no choice. We made our decision and now we have to go with it no matter where it leads us," Miles said, refilling his wine glass.

"We know," Julian said, sighing. "We don't have to like it all the time that's all."

"No, we don't," Kira said, sitting down on the couch. "I wonder what's happening on the station? I wonder what Bajor has to say about what's happening? I wonder what's happening out there on the other side?"

"They're coping. I can imagine that the Bajoran government is having a time sorting out which side of this they're on. After all, they were blindsided themselves at the meeting on Khitomer," Miles suggested, moving to the chair near the window.

"True," Julian said, sitting down beside Kira. "Right now, we have to do what we have to do. There's no going back."

"No," Kira said, sighing. "There's no going back."

**********First Officer's cabin...

It was dark and they moved together, touching each other with rising passion. They had moved to the bedroom, taking things slowly. Chakotay relaxed, touching Tom the way he had dreamed of for days and months. Tom touched him back, gently stroking Chakotay, letting him set the pace. "I love you," he whispered as Chakotay pulled him onto his body.

"I love you too," Chakotay whispered back, sighing with pleasure. "Never leave me."

Tom sighed, his eyes closing with pleasure. "Never," he said, his voice breathy with passion.

=0=

Far away an older man sat, his mind going over the details of negotiations that would decide the fate of the Alpha Quadrant for years to come. He sipped his wine, the picture of his son sitting nearby. It was a newer one than the one he kept on his desk all the lonely years of estrangement. Blue eyes smiled out at him, blue eyes that had seen too much in a short life. They bore into him, burning into his resolve a desire to protect. His son was near, flying a cloaked ship, of that he had no doubt.

It was up to him to ensure that this young man, his only son, his legacy to the future was safe. Sighing, he picked up the picture, the new one that showed Tom on the deck of his house, taken when they were together. Staring at it, he made a pact with the devil. He would make sure that if there was going to be a deal with the Maquis he would make it happen. He would ensure that nothing more would come to the only son he would ever have. At long last, sitting alone in his cabin on the Cabot as she jetted her way toward Enterprise, Owen Paris made peace with his demons.

=0=


	20. Chapter 20

Book Twenty: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

The morning was quiet as they moved about their business. Things were in motion and the end game felt closer. How it would turn out was anyone's guess. They were too clear on how things could go south to believe that the path to freedom was a straight unbending road. Tom considered just how fast things had changed for him as he busied himself at the conn. A few days ago he had been trapped in despair, sitting in an asylum, yearning for his freedom. He didn't expect it and when it came he was stunned. His own father had set him free, sending him off to the Maquis because there was no safer place for him he had thought.

Probably given things as they were, it was.

This morning he had arisen from bed, moving through a warm and comforting routine with Chakotay. Both of them were still raw, still torn up over the past year and they moved around beside each other never very far apart. It was as if they felt silently that if they were out of line of sight the whole picture would return to what it was before.

Coming back had helped. It had removed a certain amount of impotent feeling from his mind but he still knew that he felt a sense of foreboding. Things had been rough but they had prevailed. It went against his internal sense of Star Fleet's omnipotence to prevail like this. In the end as logic would demand Star Fleet and the Federation would have to prevail. They were after all, Star Fleet and the Federation.

Who were they themselves? An outlaw group, a shadow government ruling its own territory and its own citizenry. They were smart and determined but they weren't the Federation. How unlimited were their resources? How determined were they to fight on and win their what? Independence? After all the shooting was over what then? Would they all hold hands and go back together or was there something fundamentally different now? Was it all too late to mend?

He didn't know. He didn't have the energy to wonder about it. After all, that was the province of the politicians to fix or not. He was just a pilot, a former Star Fleet pilot and all he could do was follow orders and be alert. Chakotay was tired he thought, tired in a way that he had not seen before. They had worked interminable hours in the Delta, fought wars that lasted for months. Never in all that time had he seen Chakotay so worn. He had been startled when they first met and he had made up his mind to take care of the older man. Chakotay was worse than he was he thought about the fundamentals.

Eating, sleeping, delegating more things to others, these things he would forget as he did his job and now as the de facto leader of the Maquis he was doing it all over again. It had robbed Chakotay.

Tom glanced over his shoulder, noting that Chakotay was in conversation with Harry. He turned and looked ahead, noting star fields flying past them. They would arrive at the imaginary meeting place in two days. Enterprise would be there. So would his father. They would send out a shuttle and the meetings would take place on Enterprise. He would ask Chakotay to take a message to his father if he didn't go himself. He would let his dad know he was all right.

He *wanted* him to know that he was all right. His father had taken a chance, he had made a gesture to him and Tom had mulled it over and over, finding comfort in the idea that his father truly might love him. It was what he wanted to know all his life. Now he knew. He felt sure. "Steady as she goes, Tom," a soft voice said.

Tom glanced up, warm dark eyes meeting his gaze. "Aye, Captain," he ventured softly.

Chakotay smiled and squeezed his shoulders, turning and walking back to his command chair. Sitting, he considered the younger man sitting at the conn flying the great ship with skill. He sighed deeply, a portion of tension fading away. Tom had come back at the right time. He hadn't realized how much consumed with anger and vengeance he had been until they lay down together and he had failed to become ... what? Aroused?

That thought seemed preposterous. He had been consumed with desire for Paris. The thought of loving him had invaded even his dreams and when the reality finally arrived, he was mortified and chagrined deeply and rofoundly to find that he couldn't function. You're just tired Tom had offered, tired and care-worn. Give it time. We have forever. Chakotay sighed. Did they?

Did they really have much beyond this? Was there more than this ahead? He didn't know. He was too practical to believe in fairy tales and it seemed like hoping there was more beyond this moment was the stuff of dreams.

His father was in jail again. Nayib was too. Bey might be back but it seemed that when they made onestep forward they fell back two. Tabor was hurt. It pained Chakotay deeply to consider this. He had loved Tabor. He had shared his pain and Tabor in his infinitely kind way had given him a respite from the rage that warred inside of him. It had been a short one, the shame of his need and the sweetness of Nayib's desire for the Bajoran bringing him to his senses.

He had let Tabor go, an act of kindness he would never regret and in place of the small pool of warmth that had filled him in Tabor's presence a coldness had formed. He knew it was counterproductive in the longrun but in the short term it served his purposes. It made it possible to fire on 'Fleet ships, to take 'Fleet prisoners, to interrogate people with a coolness that seemed like someone else. He had made his way along the labyrinth and they had won many but the few they had lost had been costly. Then Tom came back.

It was shocked him how needy he had been, the mere sight of the younger man turning him inside out with emotion. He had been startled seeing Tom on the transporter pad even though he had expected him and he submerged into the job at hand until Bey had gently reminded him that Tom needed him too. He had gone to him, touching him again and when he did he knew that a lot of shit would be set right.

Healing touch ...

He sighed slightly, remembering the fiasco of their first night together and Tom's gentleness. He had been mortified, overcome with a paralysis that was emotional and debilitating. He had swallowed his shame, falling back under Tom's warmth and after awhile it was easier. Sleeping beside someone again was soothing and warm and all the things that life hadn't been with Tom gone. It was good to wake up as he did interminable times in the night and find that he wasn't alone. Tom sleeping beside him alive and well and his alone, that had been a wonderful sensation for him.

Tom was thin, worn and thin but they were together and that was all that mattered. When they got this going, when his family was all together again he would tell them what this man meant to him. Until then they would do their best. "I'll be in my Ready Room, Tom," he said, rising and turning to go. As he did he conferred on his partner status as his second officer. Walking to the corridor that would take him to his office he considered the next few days. If they were lucky it would be the first step in ending a conflict that had gone on too long and the first step in getting their people home once more.

**********Enterprise...

They arrived at the spot where negotiations would take place. Admiral Paris, surrounded by his aides stared out the window at the void. Somewhere out there hidden like crocodiles beneath brackish water two cloaked ships probably watched back. He turned and noted the arrangements. The table was set and it was arranged to allow them to sit in a semi-circle. He considered the politics and psychology of negotiations. It was a strange business how something so routine as placement around a table could take on such significance.

All the little details were carried out, the personnel necessary to make things smooth arranged for. He had no worries about the format. That was ensured. What worried him was the content. He had to prevail, the hardliners of the Federation, the 'law and order' contingent that labored to make his life difficult had been in control much too long. Too much had been sacrificed over the notion of order and 'peace'. He had to put things to rights.

If they could prevail, then the chance for restoration and perhaps rapprochement would be possible once more. He hoped so. He wanted peace. He yearned for it. Ten years of war, of battling the frontier people who had been his countrymen had taken its toll on all of them. Star Fleet had been dragged into politics and he loathed that more than any other indignity.

The door opened and Picard entered walking to where he stood at the window. He paused and looked outside. "They're out there. We received a message and the shuttle will be launched shortly."

Paris nodded glancing at him. "Good."

Picard considered Paris noting once again that he had a son in the middle of the mess beyond their reach. "They will be asking for a lot I'm sure," Picard ventured. Paris took a deep breath. "I'm sure as well. We can work toward what is possible even as we both grasp for the impossible."

"That sort of sums up Star Fleet," Picard agreed smiling slightly.

Paris smiled briefly, a serious expression reasserting

itself once more. "I want this to go right, Jean-Luc. Millions of people are counting on us to be bigger than the moment."

Picard nodded. "If they respond ..." he ventured studying the Admiral's face.

"They will," Paris said surety filling his voice. "This may be the only chance they have."

Picard turned and looked out the window noting that the stars shined as brightly as ever, mute witness to the fate of millions. They were as ever neutral he thought unconcerned in their infinity with the machinations of such finite beings as themselves. It was cold comfort to his anxious heart he thought staring into darkness, the silent man beside him considering his own thoughts. As always they were alone.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

He sat up assisted by a number of people and he felt the pain permeate his entire body. Groaning slightly, he felt his head falling forward, his bandaged chin resting against his chest. Sighing with pain he felt a tear trickle down his face as people carefully helped him move from the bed to a chair. Sitting down, resting wearily, Tabor exhaled his pain.

"He needs a blanket," a soft voice said from above him. A softness settled on his lap, a blanket carefully placed. People talked above him, the words only semi-coherent to him. He had existed in a haze of drugs and pain, the fever of his condition raging unabated for many days. They had tried many things, the spectrum of Federation technology scoured for something that would assuage his infections.

Tabor was outside the realm of what helped most Bajorans. His family had been experimented upon, Cardassian 'doctors' using them for testing a number of things 'for the good of all'. As a consequence not only had some of his family died but he himself had a peculiar toxicity in his chemical make up that disallowed most forms of normal anti-infection, anti-bacterial treatment.

He was healing but he was scarred a factor not lost on those that were caring for him. It irritated their sense of mission.

Blanchard had been in twice since the first visit and he had attempted to discuss things of importance to him with the groggy man. Fuming nearby, doctors watched fearing for their patient. By the time he came for his second visit they had anticipated him, the sedatives they had administered taking care of Tabor's lucidity. Blanchard, frustrated and angry had leftvowing to return.

"We'll take the bandages off tomorrow," the skin specialist said a frown on her face.

"Perhaps healing uncovered will take some of the redness away and we can really assess the damage," the skin specialist offered a certain amount of uncertainty in her voice.

"We'll see," the doctor said sighing. He turned and looked at the monitors over the bed. Fevers had broken finally in the night and they were probably over the worst part of their situation. A psychologist was due shortly to assess the amount and types of brain damage the Bajoran had received and from there they would know which direction to go in his rehabilitation.

Tabor sat in the chair weak and aching. He had no idea where he was and he wasn't really clear on who he was. He just knew that he was alone and he was hurting. All of the rest didn't even register.

**********Nearby...

"We can do this the hard way if you'd like?"

Nayib stared back at them his gaze as cold as his heart. Since he heard of Tabor's injuries, he was filled with an omnipotent fury that threatened to tear him to pieces. The cause of his hatred sat before him demanding that he give information and in his heart no matter what they did to him, Nayib was equally determined not to talk.

"You're one dumb bastard. We don't even have to take *you* apart. There's your father and your girl friend. That little Bajoran is not really in very good shape anyway. He has these burns you see and they cover his face. You should see him. He's really remarkably ugly now."

Molten fury pulsed through Nayib and it took all his control not to give in to the desires that clawed at him. To do that was to lose, not only for the Maquis but for Tabor, his father and the others as well.

"Talk to me. Tell me about your organization and I'll let you see your little butt buddy."

"Bullshit," Nayib said mildly surprised at the level of civility that he managed in his voice.

"Ah," Blanchard said leaning back in his chair. "It speaks."

"Many different languages, you little fucking pervert," Nayib said diffidence riding the tide of fury in his voice.

"Me? A pervert? Hardly. I really have simple tastes," Blanchard said lacing his fingers together. "I like good food, nice wine, my wife and winning. I especially like winning. People depend upon me to win. When I win they win. It's a sort of symbiotic relationship."

"Spare me the sociology lecture, you little fucker. You're boring me."

Blanchard smiled slightly. "You aren't boring me. I have the key to your resistance. All I have to do is use it."

Nayib stared silently back at the small and intense man before him. Bureaucrat. Career politician. Federation man all the way. He knew he was doomed.

"Your boy friend is nearly ready to talk. I'm going there right now and ... divine as much as his condition is prepared to cough up. Frankly, considering what shape he's in I'm sure I'll get the mother lode out of him." Blanchard rose and turned pausing slightly. "Of course you could assuage his suffering. You could tell me what I want to know yourself."

Nayib stared at him, loathing infusing every pore and every cell in his body. Blanchard sighed and smiled slightly. "I didn't think you would crumble even for someone you're supposed to love. Too bad. He loves you. He cried out for you in his stupor. Too bad you aren't worth it in the long run."

Blanchard turned and walked out, the screen becoming opaque once more. Nayib stared at it oblivious to the tears that began to fall. For hours he stared at it his mind in a torment of sorrows as he imagined what horrors would be happening to Tabor. It was the worst and most terrible moment of his life.

=0=

Book Twenty: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

"They're here," Data said turning and glancing back at Picard.

Picard nodded and rose turning to Riker. "Join me, Number One. We are going to be part of the greeting committee. Counselor Troi, the Admiral and his adjutant are also going to be there."

Riker nodded and rose, pausing as Picard turned the ship over to Data. The two men turned and walked to the lift entering together and calling for the hangar deck. "Picard to Paris."

"Paris here."

"They are arriving, Admiral. We're on our way to the hangar deck."

"I'm halfway there. Paris out."

Picard sighed and glanced at Riker noting his dress uniform.

"You look fetching."

Riker grinned. "I wondered what I was doing in this get up."

"Protocol, Number One. We're attempting to put right what was done wrong. Nothing like extending courtesies to former colleagues."

Riker smiled. "If you say so, Captain."

"I do," Picard said, smiling as he stepped forward as the lift paused. They stepped out into the corridor and walked the short distance to the hangar deck. The shuttle from nowhere was landing on the deck and Admiral Paris and his adjutant were watching it sharply. It settled and the running lights went off. For a moment, there was no movement and then the hatch door opened, a big leather-clad man stepping down. Behind him dressed also in leather a tall Vulcan followed. Behind him, heavily armed, three men appeared and then a blond clad in dark clothes and leather came last. They paused, each side sizing up the other and then Owen Paris stepped forward. Moving toward the group he stopped, his eyes falling on the blond in the back.

"Hello," he said, his eyes never leaving his son.

"Hello," Tom replied swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

"You look well," Owen said, his eyes roving over Tom's thin form.

"I feel better."

Owen nodded, his gaze shifting to the other Maquis before him.

"I'm Admiral Owen Paris of the United Federation of Planets, acting emissary for Star Fleet Command. I've been authorized to open negotiations with the Maquis High Command."

Chakotay nodded, his dark eyes searching Owen's face warily. Then he felt a hand resting on his back. Relaxing slightly, he nodded. "I'm Captain Chakotay of the Maquis battle cruiser, Crazy Horse. I've been authorized by the Maquis High Command to speak on behalf of the Resistance."

"Very good," Owen said nodding. "We've prepared a chamber for discussions. I hope that it will meet with your satisfaction."

Chakotay nodded, hesitating. "Lead on."

Owen nodded back and turned walking down the corridor toward the lift. His party followed, then the Maquis, the armed guards walking without confrontation by Star Fleet Security. Picard and Riker brought up the rear. They entered the lift and after a moment or two were deposited on the Enterprise Bridge.

Chakotay stepped out, Tom by his side and scanned the arrangement noting many eyes staring back at him. Troi stood by the Captain's chair, her face unreadable and he glanced at Owen concerned. "The Betazoid. She's a part of your operation?"

"Trade off for the Vulcan," Owen said smoothly.

Chakotay considered him for a moment and glanced at Riker. A calm look suffused the man's face and Chakotay turned back to Troi looking at her uneasy posture as she awaited her fate.

"Fair enough," Chakotay conceded.

They moved off the lift walking across the broad open space of the Bridge and down the corridor to the conference room that was awaiting them. They entered, the Maquis stepping off to one side. As Tom passed his father, he slipped his hand into Owen's squeezing tightly. Owen squeezed back halting his son's progress and then let go, the younger man moving toward Chakotay his face flushed with emotion.

Owen watched Tom stopping with the other Maquis as they gathered together. He gestured toward their side of the table and they slowly began to comply until all were sitting and facing each other. "Well, we're very glad that you came. I know and understand that you might not trust our intentions from the last time this was attempted," Owen began.

"Trust is an earned commodity, Admiral," Chakotay said quietly. "We came to you in good faith and we were double-crossed."

"So were we," Paris replied. "We had no idea that Blanchard was pursuing a separate agenda. We've severed our ties to their embassy and are pursuing our own. We want to negotiate a cease fire and set up a list of grievances for both sides."

Chakotay considered him a moment. "Whose authority do you pursue your embassy, Admiral?" Tuvok asked stepping in as advocate.

"We have our own authority. We have the right to negotiate. Our support in the Federation High Council is enough to thwart votes on any issue that Blanchard brings before them. They're waiting to see what we can do ourselves. If we can work an agreement and set up meetings for more talks then we can build on our support in the General Assembly. Many parties are siding with us and they carry influence with others such as the Vulcans and the Klingons."

"The Klingons?" Tom asked.

"They were blindsided too by Blanchard. It made them angry to say the least," Paris replied.

Tom grinned slightly. "Not a good thing having Klingons mad at you."

Chakotay glanced at Tom surprised by his comment and then he glanced at Tuvok. "What exactly do you propose, Admiral?" he asked leaning forward on his elbows.

"I propose, Captain, that we both pull back to our own sides of the DMZ and that we call a cessation to hostilities with the caveat that whoever breaks the truce pays a price."

"And that would be?" Chakotay asked.

"Something tangible. You would want amnesty for your people," Paris suggested. "If you break the ceasefire you forfeit the right to expect an easy ride on a petition for amnesty."

"The Federation couldn't possibly be serious about giving us amnesty," Chakotay countered.

"The slate is clean and the possibilities are open for what we can ask for, Captain. I'm not going to lie to you. There are people who want you dead. However in the interests in building trust and a coalition for peace we have to move on."

"What would you give up if you break the peace?" Tuvok asked.

"Territory. We will move the DMZ farther back into our own territory and move our bases with it. The worlds that we hold, the territory of the old frontier we will concede."

Chakotay mused on the words ringing in his head. Amnesty versus territory, territory that needed defending. Strange trade off he considered. "Let's say we agree ... what comes next?"

"Serious negotiations. We need a list of serious grievances from you. You need a list of serious grievances from us. We can work on when and where to discuss what can't be solved in this small time frame once we agree what must be put on the table."

Chakotay leaned back, considering the potential before him. Bey had given him carte blanche, trusting Chakotay's judgment. Now he had to decide. "You're sticking your neck out. Why?" Chakotay asked his dark gaze never leaving Paris.

The Admiral sat for a moment and then he leaned forward. "I've spent my entire life in Star Fleet. I've worked for the goals of the Federation everyday. Now we've hit a crossroads. Our honor and our future are at stake. We've confused security for order and it's hurting us, Captain. We have to show the way back to the premises that we truly believe in."

Chakotay listened, noting the anger and sincerity in Paris' voice. He glanced to his side and his gaze lingered. Tom was listening, his eyes bright with emotion and at that moment for that reason, he believed Owen Paris.

"All right. Let's do this part of the deal. We make our statements of grievances. We work out times and places. Then we retire to our sides. The minute we go back over the DMZ a ceasefire will be in effect and will last until the next meeting. If it holds and if we meet we can extend it."

Paris nodded, sitting back more relaxed. "Good. I agree."

"Very well. Let's get to it shall we?" Chakotay asked his gaze meeting all eyes on Paris' side of the table.

For the next two hours they talked and notated the grievances of ten years of unrelenting war. They listed them, putting them down regardless of their feasibility and by the time they were ready for a break a lot of the work had been accomplished. Rising from his seat, Owen Paris smiled. "Now that didn't hurt too badly did it? Shall we take a refreshment break? Captain Picard? If you would do the honors."

Picard nodded and rose, moving toward the table where hors de oeuvres were waiting along with an assortment of drinks. Chakotay rose, Tom by his side and the two of them moved to the table where Owen paused. The older man turned handing them a glass of wine that he poured himself. Taking another glass, he filled it and turned. "To peace," he said holding out his glass. Tom tapped his father's glass and watched as Chakotay followed suit, the three glasses clinking brightly in the quiet room.

Chakotay sipped his wine and then paused, glancing at Tom. The younger man stood quietly beside him pale and intense. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, Admiral," Chakotay said.

Paris nodded and Chakotay stepped away leaving Tom and his father together alone. Tom stood for a moment and then stepped closer, staring into the glass in his hand. "Thanks," he said softly.

"It was all I could do, son," Paris replied equally softly. "If you had stayed it would have meant imprisonment and I couldn't let that happen again."

Tom nodded his gaze rising to meet his father's emotional eyes. They stood awkwardly and then Tom stepped forward embracing Owen. Owen embraced him back hugging him tightly. "I love you, Tom. I'm sorry. For everything."

Tom sighed a burden of sorrow easing slightly. "I love you too. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry for everything too."

Owen squeezed his son and then turned, setting his glass on the table. He wiped his eyes and sighed, looking at his son with a look of unfathomable anguish. "This has to end. There's nothing to be gained and everything to be lost."

"They won't excuse us," Tom proffered, rubbing his own eyes. "I mean, there's been a lot of things happen, a lot of destruction. They can't possibly let it go without accountings."

"It may be the only way, Tom," Owen said. "It might be the only way to find an honorable ending."

"There are good people on both sides, Dad. Good people in each camp."

"I wouldn't have thought so a year ago, Tom," Owen conceded.

"I've been a company man my whole life. I've done what I thought was best for Star Fleet. I've never asked for special privileges or anything that wasn't mine to ask. Then you came back and I have another chance. I can't let it go. You and me, we sort of symbolize the whole evil mess. You're on one side and I'm on the other. It's divided all of us, Tom and we have to put it to rights. There won't be any end for any of us until we do."

Tom nodded. "You can trust Chakotay and Bey. You can." Owen looked at Tom studying the expression on his son's face.

"If I didn't believe that was possible I wouldn't have sent you back to the Maquis. I want you to live, Tom. I don't want anything more to ever happen to you. When we were home, when you came to the house and we talked and were a family again it was ..." Owen paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "It was the happiest day I could remember."

Tom blinked his eyes and stared at the glass in his hand. "It was what I always wanted," Tom said, sighing deeply. "It has to end doesn't it."

Owen nodded. "It has to end in a way that makes it over. It can't linger and come back on us, Tom. Beating you into

submission is not the way. I know that."

Tom glanced up, meeting his father's dark gaze. "Dad ..."

"I want you to promise me that you'll be safe and that you won't take chances. Please, Tom, be safe."

Tom swallowed hard and nodded. "I'll do my best."

"Good," Owen said, picking up his glass again. "Good."

The others were talking together mostly in their own groups discreetly ignoring the conversation by the window. Owen squeezed Tom's arm and turned drawing his son back to the main group with him. They mingled a moment or two, talking about this and that, about people they knew in common and then they began again. For three more hours they talked together, working out the agenda for the next meeting. By the time they rose to leave, time schedules for meetings, the ceasefire and communications were added to the list of general grievances that would make up the bulk of negotiations between them.

Owen rose and nodded to his fellow delegates. "I think this does it. We have an agenda and a timetable. I also notice that we have fifteen minutes left on our schedule."

Chakotay grinned. "Nothing like remaining on schedule, Admiral."

Paris grinned genuinely for the first time all afternoon. "Punctuality is a cornerstone of Star Fleet, Captain. I am sure that you remember that."

Chakotay grinned and rose. "I've run enough laps at the Academy never to forget it."

Paris chuckled and extended his hand. "It's good doing business with you, Captain."

"It's good doing business with you, Admiral," Chakotay said gripping the older man's hand firmly.

The others rose and for a few minutes there was relaxed and casual conversation. Then they began to gather up to leave. "We will be waiting for your message, Captain."

Chakotay nodded at Paris. "We'll be sending it on schedule. We like punctuality too."

Paris smiled and nodded. "So I'm told. There was a certain installation on Earth that was ... visited on a clockwork schedule from what I'm told."

Chakotay paused searching Paris' face for clues. He nodded. "Things happen, Admiral."

"They do," Paris agreed nodding. "Until next time."

Chakotay nodded and extended his hand. Tom watched them both with intense emotional eyes, relaxation only releasing him when his father gripped Chakotay's hand firmly. "Next time, Captain," Owen replied a slight grin on his face.

Chakotay nodded and together the two men walked to the doorway and beyond. It was a short trip to the hangar deck and as the Maquis filed forward, Tom turned and embraced his father again. They hugged tightly and then Tom turned and walked to the ship, entering it quickly. Chakotay watched him and then turned to Paris noting the longing on the older man's face. It flashed away and was replaced by iron control.

"Admiral," Chakotay said softly.

Paris turned and looked at him.

"Tom is my friend. I won't let anything happen to him. I give you my word."

Paris swallowed hard. "I'll hold you to it, Captain," he said, blinking his eyes against the burning that threatened tears. "I want him back in one piece."

"I want to keep him that way too," Chakotay replied, noting

Paris' carefully controlled distress. "I give you my word."

Paris looked at him, at the man that was his enemy and nodded.

"Thank you," he said watching as the big man turned and walked to the shuttle.

He stood and watched it lift off, moving through the hatch door and into space beyond. In seconds it would disappear into the hold of a ship that would recloak and vanish, taking his son away from him once more. He would stand there a long time watching the crew go about their business until he finally would turn and go back to the Bridge once more.

=0=

Book Twenty: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

They pulled into base, myriad cables and small devices snaking out and latching themselves onto the two ships' hulls. They were in port once more and they had alot of things to do in the week that they would be preparing for the next round of meetings.

Tom waited in the corridor of the Bridge noting that Chakotay was going over a number of things with crew and the people who would refit the ship for sailing once more. In a few moments they would be heading for HQ where Bey waited. It would probably be an all nighter from the looks of things and he resigned himself to sleeping on the couch in Bey's office while things were planned by the Revolutionary Committee and her members.

Harry Kim called out and waved, Tom returning the gesture as he watched the younger man leave the Bridge with Rick Batehart. The two of them were spending more time together lately and Tom was glad, his own days more and more locked up with Chakotay. A sound caught his attention and he turned, noting that people were beginning to file out of Chakotay's office. He nodded and smiled watching as the last person walked out the door and away from where he stood. Turning, he walked in and paused by Chakotay's desk, watching as he cleared the last clutter away.

"Finished?"

"Sure," Chakotay said turning to look at his lover. "How do you feel?"

Tom considered his question and shrugged. "Tired but better. It was good talking to my Dad."

Chakotay nodded. "I'm glad for you about that. I think we might have something go right here for a change."

Tom nodded. "You can trust him, Chakotay."

"I'm not worried about him, Tom. It's all the others that give me pause."

Tom nodded and moved closer, leaning in to kiss Chakotay softly on the lips. "We better get going. Bey will be waiting."

Chakotay nodded and sighed. "Tom, if you want to go and do something else while we talk tonight, feel free. I think this is going to go on a while."

Tom smiled and leaned against the desk. "Lucky you."

Chakotay snorted and chuckled. "Yeah. Lucky me."

"Dinner. Now," Tom said simply, slipping his hand into Chakotay's. Tugging the older man behind him, Tom steered them to the door and the corridor beyond, walking hand in hand with his lover to the lift. They entered and Chakotay called out their deck.

"Shower?" Tom asked.

"Sounds great," Chakotay said, moving closer to his lover.

He rested his hand on Tom's chest rubbing the smooth muscles through the fabric of his tunic. Leaning in, he kissed Tom softly. "You feel wonderful."

"Thanks," Tom said, sighing. "You have a nice touch."

"I know."

"And a big ego."

"I know," Chakotay replied chuckling. "All my men say so."

"All your men?" Tom asked grinning as Chakotay's hand slowly slid down the curve of his back.

"Yes. All of them."

"No complaints?"

"None. They beg for it."

Tom snorted and smiled. "They do, do they? Tell me more."

Chakotay smirked staring into Tom's soft blue eyes. "They beg me for more. It's part of the burden of being loved by me."

Tom snickered and then laughed aloud. "You're so full of shit."

"I've heard that before too," Chakotay said, moving closer to his partner. He leaned into Tom, kissing him on the mouth just as the lift stopped. Pulling back reluctantly, he turned and with Tom's hand in his, walked toward their cabin. Passing people in the hallway, they nodded and bantered, entering their cabin together.

Chakotay walked to the bedroom stripping out of his uniform. Entering the shower, he turned on the water and let it roll down his broad back. Tom followed moving to the bed. He flopped down, the aching of his body testimony to their long journey back. He sighed and closed his eyes luxuriating in the quiet of the moment. He heard the water shut off and the sound of Chakotay moving in the bathroom. He listened as the door opened and the sound of feet entered the room. The sound paused by the bed and then he felt it give as Chakotay moved to lie down beside him. A strong hand moved to rest on his belly rubbing it in gentle circles. "Tired?"

"Yeah," Tom replied yawning. "You?"

"I think I was born tired, Tom."

"Get some time off. At least time enough to sleep in tomorrow."

"I don't think that's going to happen. We've got to prepare positions on each demand and be ready to bargain. It feels like 24/7 to me."

Tom sighed and turned over onto his side slipping his arm around Chakotay's waist.

"That's not good."

Chakotay smiled. "No. It isn't."

"Tell them that you need a bit of time off. Tell them that you need to get some rest."

"I will," Chakotay said, settling against Tom, his tired eyes closing. "This feels good."

Tom smiled and hugged Chakotay. "I can think of a number of things that feel better."

Chakotay snickered. "I bet you can, hot pants."

"Hot pants?"

"Sure," Chakotay whispered softly. It was quiet a moment and then Chakotay sighed. "Tell me I don't have to get up."

"You don't have to get up."

Chakotay smiled. "Too bad you aren't running the Maquis. We could regularly schedule fuck breaks."

Tom snorted and pulled Chakotay closer, the older man's breath soft and warm against his cheek.

"That would require a by-laws change and a three quarters vote of the membership."

Chakotay rolled over on his back, pulling Tom with him. The younger man snuggled down against him, the smooth warm skin of Chakotay's chest soft against his cheek.

"I bet we'd get a quorum call if we proposed it," Chakotay mused, a smile in his voice. "After all, what is the navy but rum, sodomy and the lash?"

Tom chuckled and nodded. "I can just see the legislation. 'Fuck Break, first reading'."

Chakotay snorted and chuckled, the rumbling sound pleasing to Tom's ear. "I didn't know you were a parliamentarian," he said, kissing the top of Tom's head.

"Live in my house for long enough and you learn a lot of useless but interesting stuff," Tom replied, slipping his leg over Chakotay's. He moved his knee up, pressing against the towel covering Chakotay's groin. He heard with satisfaction the soft hiss of his lover's reaction.

"You better not start something we can't finish."

Tom raised his head, looking into Chakotay's eyes. "Then again ..."

Chakotay looked at him, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "Then again ... what?" Chakotay whispered as Tom slid down slightly, his lips caressing a dark nipple or two.

"Then this ..." he said, kissing the slope of Chakotay's chest, moving down toward the smooth dark skin of his abdomen.

"Then this." He moved down and dipped his tongue into Chakotay's navel, listening with satisfaction to the sigh that escaped the older man's lips.

Chakotay swallowed hard, the fire inside flickering. Tom's soft touch, his gentle caress was intensely warm to him and he touched Tom's head, stroking his soft blond hair. Tom moved lower, his hands and mouth softly touching and then gone and then back again. Chakotay shifted, opening himself up more and when Tom found him, he groaned.

Tom moved and settled between Chakotay's open legs, working to bring the older man off. It was intensely sweet to him, this moment together and as he labored he could feel the reward building. Chakotay gripped his head, pumping him up and down as he lay tensed and gasping. For a moment or two there was just the precision of their movements and then there was the release that Tom sought.

Chakotay gasped and groaned loudly, relief suffusing every inch of his body and as he tensed he felt his release. It was warm, molten even, and he lay back, groaning over and over. The warmth between his legs, the hot wet heat that held him tightly was the only thing that he could sense as he came. With a spasm he relaxed, his hands falling to the bed and the sensation of warmth and touch that centered between his legs continued for a moment or so before subsiding too.

Tom lay quietly, his head resting on Chakotay's thigh. He was filled with the sensation of power and joy, the pleasure of Chakotay's body, of taking it and using it almost overpowering to him. He loved to listen, to make Chakotay give him what he himself didn't believe was possible. They had been tentative in their relations in bed and every moment like this was one more step forward. oving slowly, he slid up Chakotay's body, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the mouth he sought. Lying down gently, he kissed his lover over and over, gentle and tender kisses as he felt Chakotay relax. Strong arms encircled him and they lay together, the silence of the moment erotic and heavy.

"I love you," Chakotay whispered. "I promised your dad that I would keep you safe."

Tom paused, rubbing his cheek against Chakotay's. "I think my dad likes you. He trusts you."

"I hope he does," Chakotay replied, his dark eyes gazing with intensity at the flushed face and smoky blue eyes of the slim man lying on top of him. He slid his hands down, gripping Tom's ass. "You're incredibly beautiful to me."

Tom smiled, leaning down and kissing Chakotay. "Say more," he whispered, kissing Chakotay's mouth softly over and over. "Tell me things, even if you don't mean them."

Chakotay sighed, shaking his head slightly. "You're beautiful. You're sexy and beautiful and I love you. I mean every word."

Tom sighed and Chakotay moved, rolling over to lie half on, half off of the taller man in his arms. He kissed Tom and shifted, staring down into his face. "You're a good man. You deserve good things, Tom. Your father is proud of you and so am I. When you were gone I was so ... desolate."

Tom nodded. "I missed you, Chakotay. I thought I would never see you again."

"I would never stop looking for you. You and me ... we're meant to be, Tom."

Tom nodded. "I know. Tell me more," he whispered, shifting as Chakotay moved to lie on top of him. He slipped his legs around the older man, his hands kneading the muscles of Chakotay's arms.

"I love blonds," Chakotay whispered, kissing Tom softly. "I love the gold of your hair and the blue of your eyes. You remind me of all the good things of summer."

Tom smiled. "You sound like a poet."

"I'm not," Chakotay said chuckling. "I don't do this kind of thing very well but you make me want to."

"You were always so strong, so decent," Tom said, his fingers stroking Chakotay's cheek. "I was always so ... intimidated by you. I wanted you to like me. I was such a fool. I don't think if I was someone else I would have liked me then either."

"You were hurt," Chakotay offered, rubbing his cheek against Tom's. "You were hurt and afraid."

"Yeah, I was," Tom admitted. "I didn't like much then. I never expected anything good. You always seemed so in control and so dignified. I was sort of the kid that wanted to knock the hat off the rich man's head if you know what I mean."

Chakotay snickered. "I know what you mean. I just wanted to sleep with you."

"You did, did you?" Tom countered a smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah," Chakotay said smirking. "I wanted to sleep with you and wipe that smirk off your face."

"Well, you have and you did," Tom said, chuckling. "Tell me more."

Chakotay smiled. "I would rather show you."

Tom smiled slightly and nodded. "Do."

Chakotay leaned down and kissed Tom, sliding his hand down

toward Tom's crotch. He unfastened the younger man's trousers and slipped his hand inside, grasping Tom's half erect cock. Squeezing slightly, he watched as Tom gasped and closed his eyes, the pleasure of the sensations rising through his body.

Chakotay moved over, freeing Tom for more attention and began to pump him, his eyes never leaving Tom's face. For several minutes he controlled the young man, speeding up and slowing down the reaction of his lover as he prolonged the beauty of the moment. Finally, with a pull and a squeeze, Tom arched and cried out, coming in Chakotay's hand. Chakotay leaned forward, kissing Tom, drowning out his cries as he shivered through his orgasm. Finally he lie still, breathing heavily as he relaxed from his exertions. Chakotay smiled and relaxed beside him, his hand resting possessively on Tom's groin. "You make nice noise, baby," Chakotay whispered, his lips next to Tom's ear.

Tom smiled. "You're pretty musical yourself. That was nice, Chakotay. Nice."

Chakotay rubbed Tom's groin, the flaccid cock of his lover soft and damp against his hand. He leaned down and kissed Tom on the mouth. "You inspire me," Chakotay whispered, slipping his hand between Tom's thighs. The younger man shifted, making more room for Chakotay to touch him and the older man obliged, rubbing the soft skin of Tom's legs with his hand, caressing Tom's balls and stroking Tom's cock. He had waited so long for this moment he couldn't help himself. This man was his and his alone.

Tom lay quietly, eyes closed and body completely relaxed. Chakotay's touch he had craved and he made himself as open for it as he could. He wanted Chakotay to touch him everywhere, with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. He couldn't feel it enough. He couldn't *feel* enough and he knew that the older man felt the same way.

Tom sighed and sat up, shoving his pants and shorts down, pulling them off. Lying back, he spread his legs, allowing his lover to touch him. He sighed with the pleasure of Chakotay's caresses, the sensation of belonging to someone almost heady in experience.

Chakotay smiled and kissed Tom softly. "I love to touch you. I love to feel how soft your skin is."

"I know," Tom replied. "It feels wonderful."

"Foreplay is always a good idea."

Tom snickered. "After play you mean."

"After play, foreplay, between play ... as long as I get to touch you that's all that matters," he said, stroking Tom's cock gently. "You're hung, Paris."

"All Paris men are," he replied, snorting slightly. He lay still, his eyes closed and his arms at his side. Chakotay's hand warmed him, roving over his legs and his genitals, soothing him with their touch.

"Your ego seems to be just fine too," Chakotay said, a smirk in his voice.

"We were meant for each other then," Tom replied turning his head slightly to look at his lover.

"I think so," Chakotay said sighing with pleasure. "You're mine, Paris," he whispered kissing Tom on the cheek.

"You're mine, Chakotay," Tom replied, turning his face more toward the soft breathy voice whispering to him.

Chakotay kissed him, covering his mouth passionately and they lay together, locked in each other's grasp. Chakotay broke the kiss, sighing against Tom's mouth. "Mine, Paris. Only mine."

"Yes," was all Tom said before he could say no more.

=0=

Book Twenty: Nuclear Winter (4/4) STRONG CONTENT!

STRONG CONTENT WARNING!

It was late when Tom finally awakened, sleeping on the bed in their cabin. Chakotay had slipped out, showering once again and left Tom undisturbed, snoozing after their exertions. He sighed and rose, naked and grimy from sex and as he walked to the bathroom, the images of Chakotay loving him filled his mind. They had consummated their relationship, the moment coming to them almost without beckoning and Tom felt the sting in his ass with pleasure. It had been a long time since he had been possessed so completely and he felt the pain with almost a sense of joy. He showered quickly and toweled off, moving to the bedroom to retrieve clothes. Dressing slowly, he rose and walked to the day room, moving to the desk for a check of the mail.

A note was lying on it for him, a brief message from Chakotay stating that he was at the meeting and would see Tom when he got back. He said he would be very late and not to wait up. Tom picked up a pen and jotted that he was going out for a bit but would return and join him for breakfast. He turned and walked to the door, heading down the empty corridor for the lift. A short ride to the transporter room got him dockside and he stood in the warm night air, his senses filled with the freshness of the sea nearby.

He turned and walked toward town, each step reminding him of their earlier exertions and he felt happier and more light in spirit than he felt in a long time. All around him Maquis and their friends were going about the business of evening in port. He nodded to friends, all of them consumed with their own moment and as he walked toward the Blue Feather Bar he considered the circumstances of his own life. He had a small beach head with his father, a fact that still filled him with awe. He had the love of Chakotay, the task of flying the ship that he had called home for years and years and they were on the edge of maybe a breakthrough in negotiations for peace. It was almost too much to hope for that all his hopes and dreams should coalesce at this point in time.

He sighed deeply, letting several people pass by him and then he continued on. He wasn't going to analyze it. He was just going to go with the flow. As he walked along, he noticed someone he had seen before. Julian Bashir was standing on a corner, looking at the sky. Tom crossed the street and approached him, noting that the man looked at him with surprise and delight.

"Tom."

"Julian. What are you doing here?"

"I *was* waiting for Miles. I think he's caught up in Liberty's refit."

"Have you eaten?"

"No, actually," Julian said slightly chagrined. "I *was* waiting for Miles."

"Eat with me. I'm sort of at loose ends too."

Julian nodded and turned, following Tom through the crowded and noisy streets. They reached the Blue Feather and entered, taking a seat by the bar. They ordered food and beer and began to eat, catching up on the news between their two ships.

It was a noisy evening, the band playing inside reaching out into the street. Standing on a corner, his eyes focused on the restaurant, a man stood watching. He had followed them there, noting their movements to his two partners. They would follow them all night, their orders plain. Before the evening was over the blond would be in their custody and the brunet, he would be dead if he got in the way.

**********At HQ...

Chakotay sipped his coffee, staring out the window as he did. The night was warm and the windows were open, the soft breeze stirring the curtains as it ruffled in from the ocean beyond. It was slow going, sorting out the demands but they were making progress. Before the next trip, they would have their ducks in a row. hard it was to herd ducks. He knew. He had tried. Stifling a smirk, he turned and looked back at the knots of people here and there taking a break. Bey would be coming with them, heading the next round of negotiations. He was glad himself.

He didn't mind handing off the responsibility to someone more suited for protracted negotiations with someone as tough as they were. Turning back to the window, he considered the interlude before he had come here. He had been reassured by it. He had been unable to become aroused without a lot of attention from Tom and after he had brought the younger man off with his hand, they had lain together, touching each other until the need had arisen again.

He had taken the younger man, something he had yearned to do for years and with the doing of it he finally had laid to rest a lot of anxieties. Nothing they could do tonight could top the feeling of completeness and omnipotence that had filled him after that intense moment. Tom kneeling in front of him, waiting for him to take him, that was an almost overpowering sight and he had done the job with more gusto than he could have imagined.

He had left Tom sleeping, sated and tired and the sight of it filled him with a sense of pleasure he had not experienced in a long, long time. It had taken his edge off to a degree.

Thank goodness.

His brother called to him and Chakotay turned, moving to the table once more. Sitting, he immersed himself in the world of diplomacy and politics, leaving the world of love and warmth behind.

For a while.

**********Outside the Blue Feather...

They stepped out, breathing deeply the warm air. "Let's walk. The riverside is nice this time of night," Julian suggested.

"Sure," Tom said, turning and walking down the sidewalk with his friend. They moved along the street, turning off and walking down to the dock area. It ran for miles along the river before a twisting bend took it out to sea. The sound of their feet echoed as they walked along the mostly deserted stretch of boardwalk, passing ships that lined the shore with their furled masts and dark imposing shapes. The moon shimmered on the dark water beyond, a half slip of gold shedding streamers of light to the dark earth below.

They paused before a turn out, a place for people to stop and enjoy the view. Julian leaned on the railing and grinned "You look like life agrees with you. I remember when I first laid eyes on you. You looked like hell, Tom."

Tom smiled. "Well, things change, Julian. Who would have believed you and I would be Maquis and fight the Federation?"

"True. I don't know how this happened but it seemed like a better idea that sitting in a prison camp."

"Chakotay talked you into this didn't he," Tom asked.

"Yes he did. I'm not sure whether to be happy or sad about it either."

"You didn't leave anyone behind did you? You aren't married or anything?" Tom asked, suddenly aware that a lot of what had transpired in Julian's life was still a mystery to him.

"No, actually, no one really," Julian said, sighing. "I wasn't in a relationship at the time."

"Now?"

Julian looked at him and shrugged. "Miles would like one. He thinks this may be the only life we have and he wants to have a relationship."

"And you? What do you want, Julian?" Tom asked, leaning against the railing as he stared out at the black water beyond.

"I want one. I want something. I don't know. I'm confused."

A noise behind them drew their attention and both men turned. Two men stepped out of the darkness, their faces covered in black cloth masks. One of them held a phaser. He gestured with it, motioning them to turn back around. Slowly, reluctantly, they did and as they did rough hands bound their wrists together. A phaser was pressed against Tom's back as a soft voice whispered to him. "Come with us quietly and no one will get hurt. Fuck around and we hurt you. Severely."

Tom glanced at Julian, noting his pale and solemn face. He nodded and a strong hand gripped his arm, pulling him along as they continued down the dock. In seconds they disappeared, moving into the shadows. No one would have seen them and no one would know where they went. They would just be disappeared.

**********Khitomer...

Kolopak sat on a chair facing a big window. He couldn't see through it, a curtain covered its big surface so he waited. They had interrogated him for hours, asking questions he refused to answer over and over. Finally they left him alone, shackled hand and foot, sitting on a chair in a nearly empty room.

Blanchard was hot to break him and he could feel the strain of being silent. He couldn't betray the Maquis. Lives depended upon his silence. He had lived for ten years in silence and now would not be the end of his honor. As he sat, he could hear something behind the curtain, the sounds of footsteps and muffled voices. He sat straighter, listening to the sounds, straining to understand what they would throw at him now. He couldn't really understand it but he could tell that someone was in trouble. It sent a chill down his spine and he schooled himself to show no emotion. Willing himself to relax, he sat back in his chair and waited.

**********Brig, Khitomer...

They came for him, three big security men and they dragged him off the bunk, shackling his hands and feet. Prodding him, they marched him out and down the corridor passing security and walking down the plain white hallway to a room nearby. The door was open, men in security suits standing around it and he considered what they would do to him now. For days they had sweated him, trying to break him for what information he would part with but Nayib had resisted, certain in the knowledge that as he did someone in their party would pay the price. He cursed the gods when they took him back to his cell, the image of his lover hurt and alone tormenting him as he sat waiting for the next round. Well, it was here and he walked as best he could in the shackles that chained him until he reached the door. They paused, Blanchard stepping out, a cold look of determination on his face. He nodded to the others and they tightened his shackles, pinning his arms to his sides.

They turned him and he walked in, the sight before him striking him with a cold fear that he had never felt before. A chair stood in the middle of an empty room and above it hung a noose. A man with a black mask stood beside it and he waited, silent and wraith-like as they pushed Nayib farther in. Blanchard moved to stand before him and in his hand he had a padd. "Nayib of Dorvan V, it is my duty to inform you that a military court has found you to be guilty of the crimes of treason and terrorism against the United Federation of Planets, her citizenry and property. They have therefore resolved to punish you under the Provisions of War, Sections 57A and 62D of the Emergency Powers Act. You are thereby condemned to death, to be taken to a place of execution and hanged by the neck until dead."

Blanchard turned and nodded, a security officer moving to the window nearby. With a press of a panel, the curtain covering it opened revealing Kolopak of Dorvan V sitting on a chair on the other side of the glass partition. He blinked with surprise, his dark eyes taking in all that was before him and he rose, moving to the window, horror and anguish on his face. Nayib stared at his father, at the soundless cries of agony that he could see his father cry. At that moment he lunged, jerking backwards against the men that held him and they grappled with him, moving him to the chair.

A black bag was put over his face and as he struggled they put the noose around his neck, working to establish a tie that was secure. With great effort they moved him to stand on the chair. He stood trembling with rage and agony as they tightened the noose, eliminating any give to the rope. The executioner moved to him, stepping up on a step ladder and checking the black bag over Nayib's head, fiddling with something behind the raging man's neck. Then he stepped down and looked at Blanchard, the room fraught with tension.

Blanchard looked at Kolopak, at his tear-streaked and anguished face and then he nodded. The executioner pulled the chair back and Nayib fell, his feet barely three inches from the floor. He twisted and turned, struggling against inevitability for what seemed like forever before his movements became feeble, then finally ceasing. Kolopak stared at the sight, at the spectacle of his son dying before him and he felt things break inside. He watched silently, tears falling without notice and he knew that he would never be the same man again. He would never break for them he considered in the small part of his brain that was still sane and he knew he would eventually die as a consequence too.

He stood by the window watching as they finally lowered his son, the still body of his boy falling gently to the floor. A man knelt down, a medical man obviously, and he scanned the still form. Looking up, he shook his head and Kolopak knew that Nayib was dead. Blanchard nodded to several men by the door and they moved in, picking Nayib up. Moving out the door, they carried him away as the silent figure at the window watched. When they were gone Kolopak shuffled back, sitting heavily on the chair that he had occupied before his world had been shattered forever. It seemed like a month ago, a year, the shock of his agony driving any sense of sanity out of his anguished mind.

The door opened but he didn't hear it. A man entered but he didn't see him. Blanchard moved to sit in front of Kolopak, a padd in his hand for the answers he would expect now. It didn't occur to him that Kolopak would go to his grave before he could tell the murderer of his son anything.

Ever.

He sighed and closed his eyes, the sight of a small happy boy filling his mind. He dwelt on the image, the terror of Nayib's passing warring with the joy of his growing up in the mind of the father that loved him. Kolopak sat silently lost in his mind as the killer of his son asked his futile questions.

**********Maquis home world...

Tom blinked as they jerked the blindfold off his face. Three men sat before him, padds in hand and behind him, standing in a doorway, a tall woman stood. Oola stared at Tom, remembering moments with him in other circumstances. She sighed and walked forward, tapping one of them on the shoulder. "May I leave?"

The man looked up and nodded, watching as the tall hermaphrodite walked away. When the door closed he turned back to his prisoner, leaning forward. "Tom Paris, son of Admiral Paris, Maquis traitor and member of the inner circle. Correct?"

Tom looked at him coolly, preserving his fear from detection. He shrugged. "Most people call me Bob."

The man sat back smirking. He nodded to his partner. The silent man rose and walked to the other room, returning in seconds with a chained and gagged Julian Bashir in tow. Julian was shoved forward and he fell to the bed, turning and looking back at Tom with fear-filled confusion. Tom swallowed hard, shifting in his chair. They had hit him in his weak spot, the part of himself that defended hurt animals, lost children and his colleagues with every fiber of his being. He looked at the man before him and waited.

"Tom Paris, we need to know some things. If you don't tell us, we're going to be very mad at you, do you understand? If we get mad enough Mr. Bashir is going to bear the brunt of it. We will make sure that Mr. Bashir learns the meaning of pain and humiliation. And, let it not be in doubt, you will be the cause of it. Understood?"

Tom tore his gaze from Julian and looked at his tormentor. He had seen him around, hanging around Maquis bars and walking in the crowded streets of the city. He knew him but he didn't, the man being one of a number of totally familiar strangers that populated his world here on the home land. "Understood."

"Now, tell us about the Maquis high command." He looked at Julian, recognizing the hard look that crossed Julian's face as he resolved to resist. Tom swallowed again, resolving to resist with him and he turned his gaze back to their captors. Willing himself to relax, he nodded. "The high command. They go by code names. The leader is named Winkin."

The man typed the information into the padd. He paused, looking up again.

"The other members of the high council are code named Blinkin and Nod."

He nodded and typed once again.

"Of course, we have a secret leader whose name is code as well. We defer to this person for all the major decisions."

"What's their name?" the man asked.

"We call him Toto," Tom said, relaxing in his chair.

It would go on for over an hour before Tom would tell them something they had heard before. Of course at that moment it would be Julian's turn to sing.

**********Star Fleet Medical, Khitomer...

He came to consciousness in a dark room, restraints holding him in place on the bed. His head pounded and his neck hurt but he was aware again. He shifted and found futility in the gesture so he willed his aching muscles to relax. Relaxing as best he could, Nayib of Dorvan V slipped into a light sleep as drugs that simulated death worked their way out of his system. He would sleep for two days and then return to his cell in the Brig, unaware of much except the strange dream of watching his father suffer with anguish. He wouldn't remember until some time later what had happened to him but his father, caught in the deception would never forget what he had seen.


	21. Chapter 21

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Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

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Blanchard paced, his hands clasped behind his back. It was late and they were no closer to making headway than they were this morning. He was filled with impotent rage. After all, it had all fallen to him. He was the one out here trying to find the missing members of his party, the President who might not even be alive and the others and he had to take things back to what they were before.

Somehow.

Receiving the hand in the box had been shocking. He wasn't a military man. He was a politician. He ordered people to go and fight the battles that he deemed important but he wasn't among those that went. That wasn't his style. It was easier than he had thought ordering people into war and he had been very good at making things happen.

Now here in this far away place he was struggling against farmers and peasants, people who had nothing and died for everything. It was hard to take. He didn't believe that he felt that class mattered but in the end, it did. The lower classes, the masses who paid for war and expected him to lead them demanded that this debacle, the Maquis treasonous insurrection be put to sleep. He was here captive of the will of the masses trying to do that.

Of course, he was failing.

He had confronted something that he seldom really saw in the rarified heights through which he moved so expertly. Here in the eyes of his foe, the first he had ever seen this close up, he confronted the enemy of logic: passion. It had hit him with the big Maquis who had defied him from the moment he had been brought before him. Even hanging the man didn't seem to slow him down.

He had gone to the father, the man Kolopak, a hero of the Resistance he supposed. He had tried to interrogate him convinced that he would see the futility of resistance. Of course, he was wrong. It had hit him how wrong he had been when he saw how intransigent the dark-eyed grieving man had been. He didn't break the traitor. He merely succeeded in helping him trench in.

Mistake one.

He sighed and turned picking up his glass of wine. Outside the window of his suite he could see the lights of the city stretching out before him. Everywhere people were living their lives, uncomplicated lives of minor importance. Here, like some Shakespearean tragedian he was caught in a web of his own making. He had lost the communications line to Kolopak. Nayib, the big and supposedly dead Maquis was out of it for a while. That left only minor Maquis, the Vulcan T'Lau who would probably commit suicide or some such other obscure Vulcan ritual rather than talk ...

Of course, that did leave him the Bajoran.

Tabor something or other. It was obvious that he and the big Maquis had a relationship. The Bajoran might be twisted into giving him information. He had to have it. Star Fleet was on their own now a surprise coalition of dissenters in the High Council giving them their support. It was maddening he sighed, pausing by the window. He would have to rebuild his base and ensure that he had the votes to make things happen should he have some success here.

Success ...

He would have to make things happen and soon. Who knew how the Star Fleet group was doing. They wouldn't be talking to him anytime soon. Not Admiral Paris. He considered the Admiral, a man of stone who had more personal tenacity about upholding Star Fleet than most small countries had about maintaining their physical borders. He would have no deep talks with that man any time soon.

It would have to happen soon, his breakthrough moment. He would have to get the upper hand and get his people back. They would have to bring the Maquis to their knees. Right now they had lost that. The Maquis had broken out their people from Roswell. They had gotten away from his net and they were hitting targets almost at will due to their ability to cloak themselves. It was a pain in the ass he thought draining his glass. He would have to shake a leg. Tomorrow, the Bajoran. With that he turned and walked to the bedroom to sleep.

*****At the Maquis HQ, on the Maquis home world...

Chakotay thought a moment and frowned. It was really, really late, almost morning and Tom wasn't answering. He pressed a button. "Crazy Horse."

"Nils, this is Chakotay. Could you scan my cabin and tell me who is there?"

"Sure."

There was a pause and then the voice returned.

"No one is there, Captain. I can't detect Tom on the ship, if that's who you're searching for."

"Thanks," Chakotay said, cutting the link. He thought for a moment and then touched his comm badge. "Chakotay to Paris." There was a pause but no acknowledgement. Bey noted his brother's frown and turned, walking over. "What's up?"

"Tom. He isn't home and he doesn't answer my hail."

Bey looked at him and then considered the possibilities. "Let's go look for him, shall we?" he said, squeezing his brother's arm.

Chakotay nodded and the two men turned walking to the door. "I want people out looking for Tom Paris, Geneva," Bey said

glancing at his aide. "He hasn't checked in at home."

The human nodded turning and pressing a button. In seconds, a number of Maquis were roused and out on the streets searching. By the time that Bey and Chakotay reached the Blue Feather Bar one fourth of the places most Maquis would go to were covered.

**********Nearby...

Oola sat by the window watching as people began to rouse themselves for another day. It was sunny and warm already, the promise of another wonderful day. Of course it wasn't wonderful. It was the definition of awful. Her time here was going down the tubes and she wondered how far she could get if she just got on a ship and ran like hell. Not very far, she was sure. They had implanted a device on her that would tell them she was running. It was designed to debilitate and even kill her if she tried to leave from here.

They would come for her soon she felt. It was inevitable. She was their link to the Federation and the Federation's link to the Maquis. She was the footbridge over which both sides trod in their relentless pursuit of each other. All she was in the big picture was a working girl. Boy. Person. A slight smile crossed her face and she sighed delicately. She considered her situation and decided that something more was needed than femininity and sensuality. She shifted moving from her female to her male mind. As she settled, her personality coalesced and the streak that she kept hidden, the one that put her before all things emerged. It was a part of her male persona and she knew that she needed it now.

No matter what she had to do she would do it. She would do it with her cold-blooded male mind. As she sat, she startled. The knock at the door broke her reverie and she sighed turning her head slightly. "Come in."

The door opened and a slim small young man entered, pausing as he stared at her with adoration. She smiled back amused and relieved that it wasn't someone else. "Hello, darling. Do come in."

He nodded, gratified by her welcome. "Thank you, Oola. I missed you."

She smiled and turned her lovely robe clad body bathed in the warm glow of the early morning sun. "I missed you too, Samuel. I'm glad that you could come."

**********On the streets...

They walked through every bar they could searching every hotel and every flophouse in the town. Tom was not to be found and as they searched, they were informed that Julian Bashir had not returned to his rooms either. His friend Miles O'Brien was out looking too, his anxiety nearly equal to Chakotay's. People had seen them together eating dinner at the Blue Feather. They had left and no one could remember where but they weren't seen again. Bey had put a scan order out on all shipping that moved in and out of the port. No one could find them. He stood on a street corner, his stomach aching with anxiety and worry when he heard a voice calling to him. Turning, he noted a Maquis security man hurrying up to where he stood with his brother.

"Bey, I checked the tapes and Oola was with the Fed spies last night. The funny thing is she made an effort to have no conversations so that she wouldn't be recorded."

"Why?" Bey asked mulling over that bit of news.

"Maybe she knows what happened to Paris?" the man replied.

"Take me to where she lives," Chakotay said his face grim with anger.

They turned and hurried away moving along the sidewalks like a Roman phalanx. They reached her building and climbed the stairs, moving down the corridor toward her door. Pausing, Chakotay glanced at Bey and then he turned and kicked the door in. It gave sagging to one side and he stepped in, phaser in hand.

Oola jerked around, looking at them with surprise. She was alone and the three men that stepped in quickly established that fact for themselves. She paused as they searched her place going through the rooms one by one. Chakotay turned and walked to where she stood an expression of grim uncompromising determination on his face. She noted Bey, the man who had first brought her into the Maquis fold and swallowed hard. "What brings all of you to my apartment?"

Where's Paris?" Chakotay asked barely constrained rage in his voice.

Oola sighed. "I told them they were crazy but they have orders. He's nearby. They have them."

"The Federation spies?" Bey asked.

She nodded. "They took him last night. They have new orders. They have to end this whole business before Star Fleet gets the upper hand."

"Where is he?" Chakotay repeated.

"At the warehouse where I usually go to meet them."

Chakotay nodded and turned, walking to the door. Bey nodded to a security man and he stayed as the others left. Oola sighed and turned back to the window. She was caught in the middle as usual. It would be good to leave this place. Eventually.

**********At a warehouse on the other side of town...

Tom Paris lay on a pile of burlap sacks his head throbbing. He had been beaten over a period of two hours, men taking turns demanding answers to their questions and pounding on both him and Julian when he didn't tell. Bashir has been the first target of Tom's intransigence. They had worked him over very well. He had lain in a pool of his own blood wheezing through a shattered chest. Tom had bitten his tongue, revealing nothing and finally they had turned on him. He had endured as he always had as Julian had and when their tormentors had tired, they were tossed into the small storage room, the door closing on them leaving them in pitch darkness. He groaned as he turned over, his midsection a bloody pulp he knew from prior experience. Julian was nearby some place in the darkness, his wheezing a location device for Tom. As he considered their fading options, a noise caught his attention and he heard muffled shouts and the sound of a phaser. Then it was silent again.

He lay still, straining to hear what was happening and then he heard footsteps running toward him. He swallowed hard struggling to sit up when the door opened and light pierced the blackness. He blinked and looked up, seeing the outlines of people peering in.

"Tom!"

He relaxed, his relief at the sound of Chakotay's voice almost overwhelming. Laying back, his aches and pains overwhelming him, Tom closed his eyes. Hands carefully touched him as he was lifted out of the darkness. The sound and feel of transporter dematerialization surrounded him and in seconds he was in Sick Bay on Crazy Horse. The Holodoc, surprised and stunned at the sight of the two of them bustled to repair their hurts as technicians assisted him. Bey stood beside Chakotay, his hand resting on Chakotay's back. "He's going to be all right. Both of them I would bet."

Chakotay nodded. "Probably."

"We have to see what this is about. Do you want to be in on the interrogation of the spies?"

Chakotay turned to his brother, his dark gaze filled with fury.

"If I was I might kill them, Bey."

Bey nodded and patted Chakotay's shoulder. "Stay here. Let me know what the Doc says. All right?"

Chakotay nodded sighing deeply. Bey turned and walked to the door pausing long enough to get an update from the tech that was working at a station near the surgery. Relieved by what he was told, he turned and walked out the door. Chakotay watched him go, comforted by his solidity and his presence. Turning, he walked closer to where Tom lay on a diagnostic bed. As he did, the door opened and Miles O'Brien hurried in moving to stand next to the silent Maquis. "What happened?"

"Someone grabbed them," Chakotay said his voice clipped with anger. "They tried to sweat them for information."

"Julian? He's just a ship's doctor! What the hell is that all about?"

"Wrong place at the right time," Chakotay replied.

**********Enterprise...

Tom Riker smiled and nodded, turning to walk out the door. Admiral Paris had just finished their last briefing before they would leave Khitomer and head back into space for their meeting with the Maquis negotiators. He walked back to his cabin, entered, stripped and stepped into the shower. It had been long days and lots of talking, working through minutiae and checking all angles against the middle. He was used to that, his prowess as a negotiator for his companies well known in the Federation and allied political entities.

They had an agenda, goals, and commitments that must be kept and alternatives to their own needs that would prevent and forestall breakdowns. Contingencies were planned for, Admiral Paris being nothing if not a thorough man and he knew they had a goodshot at making progress. The ceasefire which took place once the cloaked ships crossed into their own territory was still holding by all accounts and for the first time in years he began to feel optimistic.

Turning off the water, he stepped out and toweled off. Wrapping one around his waist, he turned to the desk that occupied a corner of his cabin. Sitting down, he opened his mail searching for the encrypted messages that were piggybacked onto regular transmissions. He noted one and opened it, passing it through the debugger that would allow him to read undetected. It was from Bey and included the business of Tom and Julian being taken by Federation spies. He was asking if they were political spies or Star Fleet and Tom encrypted a message saying that they were severed off with Blanchard when they split negotiations. He shook his head, sending the message on the back of routine ship-to-ship cables, still the only way to communicate long distance until the array was back on line. Sitting back he considered what they would do if things worked out and it all ended in some way that everyone could live with.

What would he do with himself? Would he stay here or go home and enjoy the high life knowing he was integral in bringing it about? He considered the career he could have in Star Fleet. He considered his obstacles, Troi and Will being paramount among them. He smiled, shaking his head once more. Time enough later for such considerations he thought as he stood and stretched. As it was, he was late for dinner with his lady. He turned and walked into the bedroom to dress.

**********At a camp far away...

Kathryn Janeway sat on a wooden crate staring through the razor wire at the town beyond. She had a meeting with Bey and Chakotay for this afternoon but something had happened to delay it. They hadn't said what it was and she sat impatiently, waiting for a chance to declare her intentions to be on their side.

Sitting in the desert waiting for the camp breakout to begin she had taken stock of the past decade. It had been a life-changing experience purging lesser desires from ones that burned like flames in her psyche. The Delta had made her harder, honed her edges and even though she tried to keep to Star Fleet and

Federation principles there were times when it was impossible to be as honorable as she wished she could be. It was something that kept her in the 'Fleet, something about the orderliness and tradition that made it feel right for her. She could have done a million other things but she chose to honor her father by being in Star Fleet and using her talents to find out new and undiscovered things about the universe.

Of course, not everyone else had operated from such lofty and high ideals. Some people did this life for the pay. Chakotay had her ideals, her drive and desire to know. It was what had taken him from a home as traditional as you could find. He had turned away from powerful forces to seek his muse if you will. Now he was someone she didn't know. He had turned from her as he had turned from Star Fleet and she knew that reaching him with her sincerity would be hard sledding. However, she had to do it. She had to show them that she could do the job too.

Sighing, she watched a hawk fly over, lazy circles in a blue summer sky. It reminded her of home, of the cornfields and white fences of her youth. Sitting on the box in a Maquis prison Kathryn Janeway felt very, very alone.

=0=

Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

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He sat up, his stomach burning from the pain of his ordeal. Nearby, sleeping under sedation Julian Bashir lay. Tom looked at him and sighed, shaking his head. "Hurts doesn't it."

He looked up, meeting Chakotay's warm gaze. He nodded and slipped his arms around Chakotay's shoulders as the older man embraced him. They held each other and then Chakotay helped Tom down from the diagnostics bed. He stood a moment, his stomach churning and then he nodded the two of them moving toward the door.

"Mr. Paris, where are you going?"

The EMH stood in the doorway indignation and surprise on his face.

"I'm going home, Doc. I hate hospitals."

"Well," the doc said glaring from Chakotay to Tom and back again. "What else is new?"

Tom grinned and patted the doc's arm. He moved forward listening with only half an ear to the doc's comments to Chakotay on Tom's aftercare. They walked to the corridor, heading for the lift and entered, Tom leaning against the wall.

"Deck four," Chakotay said his worried eyes never leaving his lover. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah," Tom answered, straightening up. He looked at Chakotay, at the older man's worried expression and reached out his hand touching Chakotay's cheek gently. "I'm going to be fine. The Doc said so."

Chakotay nodded sighing. "I hate it when you're hurt."

"I do too," Tom said a slight grin on his face.

"They were after what? Information on the Council? Our movements?"

"Everything and anything. They want to kill us. I got the impression that the Federation side is under the gun for time. I have a feeling that my dad peeling off wasn't a good thing for their goals and ideals."

"Good," Chakotay said stepping back for Tom to pass him.

They walked down the corridor and entered their cabin, Tom moving stiffly to the bedroom beyond. He lay down on the bed huddled around a pillow that he clenched to his midsection and Chakotay joined him, spooning behind him his arms wrapped around the younger man protectively. "You feel good."

"I wish I did," Tom said a ghost of a chuckle in his voice.

"Sleep."

"I will. You too."

"I will," Chakotay replied the weight of his fatigue spreading out over his body like a tidal wave of sludge. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm sore, Chakotay but I'm all right."

"Good."

It was silent for a moment and then Chakotay sighed. "I love you."

Tom threaded his fingers through Chakotay's. "I know. I love you too."

"Good," Chakotay whispered as sleep claimed him. He closed his eyes and drifted away Tom securely in his arms. Tom laid very still the older man's body enveloping his own. It felt warm and soothing and before he knew it, he was asleep as well.

**********At the interrogation...

Bey sat and watched as the two best interrogators the Maquis had labored over the three spies. They had been found out early on in their game, their own skills no match for the deepand abiding sense of knowing that the Maquis had for detecting outsiders. From that moment on, they were fed disinformation for their superiors. They sat in their chairs harsh lights over their heads and shrugged off the questions of their tormentors.

Bey sat in front of them his darkened presence a menacing reminder of their precarious situation. They knew who he was, what he was, what he could do and even though they tried to hide it, they were afraid. He let them stew as they sweated under the lights well aware that the next stage in the game was his to call. They had hours of conversations recorded with Oola, enough

information to bring about their deaths. They didn't know that and when he ordered a short snippet of conversation played for them he watched their disbelief with grim satisfaction. "You do know that we can kill you now. You're spies in the enemy camp."

They looked at him, this figure in the shadows and their

fear was evident. "You can't do that. We have agreements on the treatment of prisoners," one of them said sweat forming on his brow.

"Treatment of prisoners," Bey echoed his voice filled with sarcasm. "Tell me, what agreement were you holding to with Tom Paris and Julian Bashir?"

They were silent for a moment.

"What are you going to do with us?" another of them asked.

"Kill us?"

"It's our prerogative. We can under the articles of war."

They were silent a moment.

"Don't. Please," the one man said drawing sharp looks from his partners. "Look, we just ... we're just payroll men. We work for the Federation."

"Shut up, Daniel!" one of the others said sharply.

"*You* shut up, Rob! I'm not dying for the Federation, not like this. This is bullshit and you know it." He turned and looked at Bey. "We're just workers. We're not the ones you want. Don't kill us and we can help you."

Bey sighed. "What can you tell us?"

"Oola works for us, you know that. We channel information to the Federation. They split off from Star Fleet. Blanchard is running his own show now, more so than before. He wants any information on how to get past your cloaked ships and how to make his way here. He wants to kill you."

Bey nodded. "What else?"

"He has your people on Khitomer. He has them in the Medical facility. They were hurt and he's holding them as bargaining chips. Word has it he's sweating them for information."

"Shit," Bey said rising and moving toward the window. "I want to know everything you know about the set up at Khitomer. I want to know where our people are and what's happening to them." Bey turned and looked at them. "Of course, if you lie to us I will personally cut your throats. Is my meaning clear?"

All three men looked at him, noting his icecold gaze. They

nodded. Bey motioned his men over and they whispered together for a while. Then he turned and walked out heading for the Crazy Horse and the comfort of his brother's company.

**********Chakotay's cabin...

They sat in the darkness, beer bottles in hand, feet propped on the coffee table before them. Tom slept in the room next to them, the two men talking softly together. Beyvahl sighed as a sense of fatigue that was over present reasserted itself over him. He rubbed his eyes. "I feel two hundred years old."

"You don't look a day over eighty," Chakotay countered glancing at his older brother. Gray streaked his dark hair and lines graced the corners of his eyes. He looked weary. "We have to get our people out of Khitomer. They're leaverage over us that we can't afford to have. If Papa and the others are hurt, I don't trust Blanchard to help them. If we can get them out of Khitomer before the comm array is back up we can probably do it without a shooting battle all the way back."

"What about the ceasefire?" Chakotay asked.

Bey was silent for a moment. "I want to keep it. We won't claim responsibility for any retrieval that we effect. We'll deny it."

"We'll lie."

"Yes."

"They won't believe it."

"Paris would take the shot that it wasn't worth suspending negotiations over."

"We chose to give up what if we broke the ceasefire?"

"An easy ride to an amnesty agreement."

It was silent for a moment.

"We would be risking a lot, Bey," Chakotay agreed. "However the morale value of getting Papa back, of getting the others out right under Blanchard's nose would be good. It would make him look stupider than usual."

Bey nodded. "It might also give him the upper hand among the emerging split in the General Assembly."

"Or widen it. It might show what an incompetent bastard he is. Especially if the media got wind of it."

"True," Bey agreed. "Janeway wants to join us."

"What do you think?"

"I need your opinion, Chakotay."

"She brought Tom back. That's in her favor. She's a tough smart woman. That's also a good thing. I just don't know her well anymore."

"She wants to do something to prove her loyalty to us. Not to us per se maybe but to being on the side of her crew and ship."

"Such as?" Chakotay asked.

"I broached the idea of her taking a crew to Khitomer and getting out people out."

It was silent for a moment and then Chakotay turned his head to look at his brother. Bey's profile was illuminated with light from the window, a halo effect outlining his handsome face. "You trust that she can?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me that she was. Trustworthy that is," Bey said frowning slightly as he glanced at his brother.

"I would have to talk to her, Bey," Chakotay said. "I would have to see where she stood on things. It's all different now and I know she's enraged that we have her ship. Correction. That *I* have her ship."

"Do it soon. The sooner the better, Chakotay. If Blanchard is doing anything to our people, I don't trust him not to make it lethal."

Chakotay nodded. "Tonight. I'll go over and see her tonight." They sat together, the light of the window their only companion as in the next room Tom Paris slept silently.

**********Later that same night...

"I didn't expect to see you again."

He nodded, noting her pale face and tense tight posture. "I didn't expect it either."

"What brings you down to my neck of the woods?"

"Bey tells me that you want to be a part of our operation. I find that very strange. If there was anyone around that would be true to the Federation and her principles to their last breath I would think it was you."

She shrugged. "I am. The Federation I serve is lying in the ashes of war, Commander. I want to help dig it out and restore it to what it's supposed to be, not what it is now."

He nodded and sat the moon overhead throwing its silver rays to the earth below. They glowed in the soft light, the effervescence of heaven bathing them. He looked up at the shimmering sky and sighed. "How did this ever happen to us?"

She relaxed her body, images of years of friendship flooding her mind. "I don't know. It wouldn't have mattered. Nothing matters really. They were set for us and we would have all ended up in prison if you hadn't have reacted to the Vedek."

"Maybe. The Federation is a strange place now, Kathryn," Chakotay said his voice soft and regretful. "Did you know that my citizenship was revoked?"

"No. I hadn't," she said sighing. "What now, Chakotay?"

"Bey says you want to join us. He has a plan. He wants you to go to Khitomer and get our people out of the Brig and Hospital there. He's heard that Blanchard is mistreating them."

She was silent a moment. "Small order."

"We've done worse. I do recall a time when we entered the lair of the Borg Queen."

A rare smile flashed across her face and she looked at him, studying him for a moment. "We were good together weren't we?"

"We were," he replied a slight smile on his face.

"Let's be good together again," she said staring up at the moon above. "Let's do something impossible again, just like before."

"Tell me who you will need."

She considered things for a moment. "I would like Seven, Harry and Tuvok."

He considered her request and nodded. "You are aware that all three of them are wanted by the Federation for treason and crimes against humanity?"

"I can imagine," she said, nodding. "However, if things go well no one will know they were there."

He nodded. Rising, he turned to her. "Come on. We have things to work out."

She rose and turning followed him to the gate where they went through security together. Watching them from the window of his barracks, Wesley Crusher sighed with regret. He was coming up on the anniversary of his first year of captivity. It had been a long twelve months behind him and the future looked just as bleak. With a sigh of weariness he turned and walked back to his bunk to sleep.

**********Star Fleet Medical Center, Khitomer...

"Careful."

He sat silently, dizzy but feeling stronger as hands tugged with great care at the bandages around his face. He was not totally clear on what had happened, the nice woman who came regularly to speak to him keeping their conversations to things such as his personal data and his past. He would find out when he was ready that the brain damage caused by two phasers and one disrupter had not been completely healed. Some of his memories would be gone forever and some would take time to remember.

"There."

He could feel the cool air on his tender skin as they peeled off the last bandage. A pretty woman came close and with the gentlest touch probed with her fingers at the area that had been wrapped. She didn't say anything, preferring to see with her fingers what was what. He just sat quietly as several people waited for her verdict. "It's healed as best it can considering that we had to battle infections so long."

She stood back eyeing him critically. There was a broad angry swatch of red that ran from his temple to his chin, coursing down the curve of his cheek to the gentle contour of his jaw. His hair had grown back in thick, black and luxuriant, but the scars on his cheek, jaw, neck and down into his shoulder were red and angry. "How much can we do with plastic surgery?" his doctor asked.

"We can't do a thing without the proper drugs. This young man has toxicity problems that only the Bajorans might be able to solve. I wouldn't even begin to touch this until we have some more information."

They stared at him and he stared back uncomfortable with the conversation they were having. He reached up and touched the slightly numbed side of his face under question. It felt strange, the lack of sensation being only part of the difference. It also felt hot and ridged. He rose and turned to the skin specialist looking at her with confusion. She stepped forward, taking his hand from his face. Pushing him gently back into his seat, she smiled. "You were hurt. We are making you as well as we can. However, we have more to do. There are some scars, Tabor. We're going to see about helping you with them. We just don't want you to be upset. Okay?"

He looked at her trying to grasp what she was saying to him. "What's wrong with me?" he asked looking from one person to another, his anxiety rising with each second.

"Get him a mirror."

The doctor turned and picked one up from a nearby cart. Turning, he paused and then handed it to Tabor. They held their breath as he held it up to his face. For a moment, he didn't say a word and then without warning the mirror slipped from his hand and fell to the floor smashing to pieces. He sat stunned, his mind filled with angry red scars as tears slipped from his eyes, his heart as shattered as the mirror on the floor.

=0=

Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

"It's good to see you again, Captain."

Kathryn nodded and smiled, amusement at Seven's surprise clear on her face. "I'm sure you never expected to see me again."

"No. I didn't," Seven replied her matter-of-fact no nonsense delivery comical in spite of her seriousness. Kathryn shook her head, turning to the others. Harry and Tuvok stood quietly waiting for her to tell them what she had in mind for the rescue at Khitomer.

"We have an interesting problem, gentlemen. We can assume that those that are in good health are in the brig at the main security facility and the others that aren't, they are in the hospital."

Tuvok nodded. "Both of those facilities are noted for their security. It will be very difficult to enter them undetected."

"I know. That's why we have to use modified Borg technology. I am interested in transporting in and releasing those in the Brig at one time. If we use Borg shielding we can withstand any shots that the security guards fire, especially if they are on a rotating modulation. Also, we can use the devices that Seven's parents used to move from place to place ..."

"The dampening devices," Seven proffered.

"Yes," Kathryn replied. "The Federation has decided that cloaking technology isn't ... how can I put it? Sporting and above board, so they're behind the loop on what we can do. Our technology from the Delta is ahead of the curve and will allow us to enter and move from place to place unhindered."

"The trick is getting inside," Harry said, relaxing in his chair.

"We need to throw them a monkey wrench," Kathryn said, mulling over the data on her padd.

"Monkey wrench?" Tuvok asked an eye brow raised in curiosity.

She smiled. "A twist that they weren't expecting. We need to befuddle their security devices, perhaps over the whole complex. It would allow them to chase ghosts while we beamed in. If we can break their frequency, drop their nets and make them chase ghosts rather than us it will give us time to do what we have to do."

"I'll work on their frequencies."

"We'll have to guess on that," Kathryn said frowning.

"Not necessarily. We have an inside man," Harry said moving to a console. He began to compose a message to the encryption center addressed to Reg Barclay. He would encrypt Harry's request and send it to Tom Riker. It would be his job then to find out the schematics and the frequencies of the security system in the 'Fleet facility on Khitomer.

Kathryn watched him. "Why am I not surprised?"

Tuvok shrugged. "We prefer thorough."

"Indeed," she replied dryly. Turning, she tapped a computer console and a schematic of Khitomer appeared. "This was part of the Sorrel Bay database so we have to take it with a grain of salt."

"That would be wise," Tuvok agreed.

She grinned slightly. "We need to coordinate not only how to get onto the planet but to work our way into the facilities quickly and get out quickly."

Tuvok nodded and the four of them sat down working out the logistics of a hit and run that would be as anonymous as they could make it be. They would have to do it without leaving any actual evidence that the Maquis were involved. That would be the tricky part of the whole operation.

**********Crazy Horse...

Chakotay sat down his cup, his eyes rising from the padd in his hand to the lanky figure sprawled on the couch nearby. Tom was reading a book, relaxing after dinner as Chakotay caught up on his requisition orders. They had dined, companionably moving through their day together. He had come home after visiting Kathryn, noting that Tom's pallor had improved from his ordeal.

"How do you feel?" he asked noting blue eyes rising to meet his own.

"Good," Tom said putting his padd aside. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "What is the word on the spies?"

"Bey hasn't called yet. I'll let you know when he does."

"I haven't asked about you and Kathryn."

"No, I noticed that," Chakotay said gathering his work together. He shoved them into a corner of his desk and put his feet up. Relaxing, he stared at Tom, his eyes looking the younger man over carefully.

"What do you think? About her?"

Chakotay pondered the question a moment and shrugged. "I think she's on our side. I think she's on a crusade to bring back the Federation that she believes in rather than support the one that we have."

"She's always been a true believer," Tom said noting Chakotay's scrutiny.

"She has even when it wasn't good for the order," Chakotay agreed rising and moving to the couch. He paused and looked down at Tom, at the dark circles around his eyes. Tom looked up at him noting his intensity and then he sat up, slipping his arms around Chakotay's waist.

"You feel good. Solid. Sort of like the center of the universe," Tom said quietly. He rubbed his cheek against Chakotay's belly. "Soft and hard at the same time."

Chakotay grinned and stroked Tom's soft hair. "You feel good too."

Tom relaxed and looked up, staring at Chakotay with a peculiar look on his face.

"What?" Chakotay asked, concerned.

"I don't know. I just feel strange."

"Are you ill?" Chakotay asked concern rising in his voice.

"No," Tom replied. "It's not that. I just feel anxious."

Chakotay relaxed. "I can't imagine why, Tom. You were in a loony bin, you escaped, your father had a change of heart, you met your family after ten years, you got beaten to a pulp, your wife turned away from you, the Federation is working to kill us, Star Fleet is working to end the war and is technically on our side of the divide, maybe. What could ever be the cause for anxiety?"

Tom smiled and shook his head. "When you put it that way ..."

"I do," Chakotay said stroking Tom's cheeks with his fingers.

"What about you, Chakotay? How do you feel about all this?"

"I'm almost afraid to think," he said sighing. "I'm afraid to hope."

"Your father and brother ... I love Nayib. He's a good man."

Chakotay swallowed hard. "I love him too and Tabor. I'm afraid for them, Tom. I feel so much fear for them. I don't know if they're alive or dead."

"They're alive, Chakotay. I believe in that. You have to as well."

Chakotay swallowed hard and nodded. "I try to." He moved to sit down resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know what I would do if my father didn't come home after all of this. I have never felt so badly as when I was told that he was dead. I cried and cried and then I got mad. I tried to put the rage aside when we were lost in the Delta. I thought I had succeeded but I hadn't. I've been angry for years, Tom and it's made me feel ... almost hollow. This thing, this Vedek thing has brought it all back."

"That's not really your fault," Tom said soothingly. He leaned into Chakotay slipping his arm around his shoulders. The older man leaned back, resting his forehead against Tom's cheek. "That part is out of your control."

"Is it?" Chakotay asked looking into Tom's eyes, his own dark with emotion. "Is it all part of someone else's control? I want to go everywhere and blow up everything. I want to make them pay, Tom. Then a part of me remembers that we used to be countrymen, that they have families that miss them too."

Tom kissed Chakotay's lips gently. "You're tired and manipulated and hurt and angry. You feel the way you do and until this is over it's going to stay that way. Use it to help yourself. Use it to lead us."

Chakotay nodded. He sighed deeply. "I almost hated B'Elanna when you married her. I was so alone, Tom. You can't know how alone I was."

Tom stroked Chakotay's face with his hand. He leaned in and kissed the older man's lips gently. Chakotay kissed him back leaning back against the couch. Tom moved with him, feeling Chakotay's arm encircle his waist. The older man shifted pulling Tom into his body. They kissed softly, the sound of their kisses the only distraction in the room.

"You're a good person, Chakotay. You always manage to be the man you have to be when things go wrong. I love that in you. I love how you can be as big as the moment demands."

Chakotay sighed. "I get tired sometimes. Worried."

"I know," Tom said sighing gently as he touched Chakotay's cheek. "We all do. Don't feel badly. You carry a lot of the burden on your own back. Let me help you."

"You do," Chakotay said softly nuzzling Tom's lips. "You have no idea how important you are to me. Just having you here sitting with me ... it's everything, Tom."

Tom smiled softly. "Who would have thought so on the Bridge that first day in the Delta."

Chakotay smiled, his dimples dazzling. "I didn't know whether to shoot you or kiss you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Chakotay said pulling Tom closer. He leaned in and kissed the younger man his hand moving slowly down his chest to Tom's legs. He slid his hand between them caressing Tom's crotch, the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped around their kisses music to his ears. "I want you."

Tom sighed and nodded pressing Chakotay's hand against his groin.

"You're hurt," Chakotay proffered.

"You won't hurt me," Tom said gripping Chakotay's hand with his thighs as the older man rubbed him. Tom sighed and closed his eyes. "More."

Chakotay slowly stood and pulled Tom to his feet, the two of them standing chest to chest their eyes locked intensely. "I love you. You're mine," Chakotay said his lips close to Tom's.

The younger man nodded rubbing his lips against Chakotay's softly. Chakotay's tongue flickered, touching them, their warm moistness as sweet as nectar to his starving soul. He gripped Tom's waist with his hands, holding him closer as he nuzzled Tom's long soft neck. The younger man sighed softly, the sound of it pooling in Chakotay's groin.

"You're good at that," Tom whispered his hands running slowly up and down Chakotay's arms. "Very good."

"I'm better at other things," Chakotay whispered pulling Tom closer.

"Show me," Tom whispered, the erotic atmosphere as still and electric in the quiet room.

Chakotay nodded slipping his arm around Tom's waist. They walked to the bedroom pausing before the bed. Chakotay stared at Tom, at his smoky blue eyes and the rising flush of red on his neck. The man was beautiful, the stuff of his longing and dreams. He was here at long last standing with him in the privacy of their quarters and he knew at that moment that there would never be another for him.

No one would ever touch his heart the way this one did. No one would ever reach as deeply into his soul. When they were together, he felt good, as whole as he had ever felt. It was hard to articulate he thought reaching toward the buttons that separated him from the soft down of Tom's chest. He unfastened them, the younger man standing stilled like a colt lassoed for the first time. Blue eyes filled with emotion, chest heaving with rising desire, he let Chakotay remove his shirt, let him run his hands over the soft skin of his chest all the while standing silently in anticipation.

Chakotay stroked Tom's chest, lingering on the pink nipples that peeked out of the golden hair that rose from soft skin. Freckles dusted his shoulders and Chakotay leaned down, softly kissing up the length of a broad shoulder to the curve of Tom's neck.

"That feels so good," Tom said rubbing his cheek against the soft dark richness of Chakotay's hair. "More. Everywhere."

Chakotay smiled and looked at Tom, his eyes filled with pleasure. "You don't ask for much."

"Enough," Tom said slipping his arms around Chakotay's neck. "I ask for just enough," he said before his lips covered Chakotay's.

Chakotay kissed him back his hands roaming the warm skin of Tom's back. Tom leaned into him giving in to the rising demands of his own body and Chakotay knew they would be locked in each other for the evening. On their bed they would push back the anxieties, the worries and the cares that dogged them the rest of the time. Here, together, they would have only each other for a little while. With a sigh of contentment, Chakotay moved toward the bed and together they lay down, arms and legs wrapped around each other as they sought some peace in the middle of their private wars.

**********Later that night ...

He clicked off the computer and turned, walking through the dark cabin to the bedroom beyond. Tom lay on the bed sprawled naked in his usual manner, his arms thrown out on both sides of his body. He was pooled in light from the shipyard outside and Chakotay could see the bruises that still shadowed his abdomen. They had given him a good working over and each time he spied them he could feel his blood boil. He stood beside the bed, his eyes lingering over the pale form of his lover. They had made love, taking their time together and when they were finally satiated, slipped into sleep wrapped in each other's bodies.

He sighed and considered the situation as it stood. He had not really talked to B'Elanna since telling her that he was in love with Tom. He had wanted it clear between them, the friendship and company of the younger woman an important part of his personal contentment. He wanted Tom divorced. He wanted them together. What would come out of it, the permanence he craved or not would be worked out between the two of them. He just wanted that part of Tom's life severed. Considering it, it felt almost petty but that part of their separation, the futility of believing that Tom was lost to him forever had to be removed for his peace of mind.

He would talk about it tomorrow he thought as he shrugged out of his robe. Tossing it on a chair, he slid back into bed pulling the mumbling figure of his lover into his arms. Tom settled, sighing softly and Chakotay smiled. There was something so boyish about Tom. He enjoyed those few moments when it would surface. He loved to watch the excitement play across Tom's handsome face when something great was going to happen.

He sighed himself, the young man riding up and down on the rise and fall of his chest. He stroked Tom's back, the warm skin cooled and pale once more. Images of slick smoothness and soft noises by his ear filled his mind and he closed his eyes to concentrate on them. Heat and sweat, muscles straining and moving together, he could smell and taste the pleasure of their joining even now.

Tom was given to pleasure, he was *made* for pleasure ... he was a hedonist's wet dream. Chakotay smiled, the shift of Tom's body in sleep accommodated with his own slight moving motion. Tom was a restless sleeper, a man who possessed his space even when unconscious. He slept all over Chakotay, spooning and sprawling and always touching. He was a man in motion even in repose. Chakotay had accommodated him, reveling in the myriad moments in bed when a hand or leg reminded him that he wasn't alone. He would sometimes be jarred by it, awakened from sleep by the unaccustomed touch and then he would relax, moving closer to his partner, seeking in contact the warmth of his presence.

He wondered on Nayib, on the health and safety of Tabor. He worried that something terrible had happened that couldn't be put to rights. Nayib had fallen for the quiet Bajoran as hard as could be, harder than Chakotay had ever noted before. He had been searching for someone a long time. Big, smart and hopelessly optimistic, Nayib had found in the slim Bajoran a partner who complimented his nature. Now he could only wonder if Tabor was alive. He hoped so. He prayed so. He hated the idea of Nayib being hurt again. He dreaded it. It pooled in his stomach and squatted there, gnawing on his peace of mind. He prayed that Kathryn and the others would be successful and they would all be here behind Maquis lines once more. Soon.

Kathryn.

Her image flashed through him again and he thought about the times he had wanted her. He thought about the few times she had let down her guard and the men she had gone to when she did. They were interesting choices, most of them totally unlike himself. She had her own desires and he wasn't a part of them. It had taken a long time not to be annoyed or vexed over it. They had both been wrong from the beginning. 'Command demands selflessness. Command demands that you be aloof.' What a crock of shit he thought. Command meant loneliness, especially if it had been self-imposed as some kind of standard for leadership. One couldn't be distracted by lesser things like love and company and hope and dreams. They were both fools.

Lying here, Tom's body wrapped in his own he felt a sense of contentment he got nowhere else. It was only here in this solitude, the two of them beyond the touch of the cold and cruel outside world that he felt any real and lasting sense of hope for the future. Out there where all the others were, there were too many factors at play. In here alone with Tom, he felt like the master of his universe. With a sigh, he slipped into sleep once more.

=0=

Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

He stood at the conn, checking the panel before him, his hand resting on Tom's shoulder. Standing behind him, dressed in tan nondescript clothing, Kathryn Janeway watched with a hooded expression the order to stand out from port. She had been closeted with Beyvahl and her team, going over the details of the plan to rescue the Maquis that were in Federation custody for the past five hours. It was risky and there could be errors but they were as ready to go as they could be.

She watched as leather-clad people, some from her own journey and crew worked under the command of the man who was captain of her vessel now. It stung, it ached, it hurt more than she had anticipated but she schooled her features to betray nothing. The pale cast of her skin was the only traitor to the emotions that filled her. In the hold of the ship Neelix' freighter waited, marked and camouflaged, ready to take them into the lion's den.

/... My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me .../

She sighed and turned, looking at the two command chairs. Moving slowly, she walked to Chakotay's and sat down, her eyes forward and her bearing regal. He turned, noting her sitting in his old seat and nodded, moving toward the captain's chair and sitting down.

"You fit that well," she said her voice calmer than she felt.

"Thank you," Chakotay replied noncommittally. He didn't want to argue, the years they had shared had been full and filled with friendship. He didn't know if that were still possible but he didn't want to test it. "We'll let you off at the nebula as per the plan."

"We'll be back in two days or we won't be coming back."

Chakotay nodded. "I have faith in you. We did breach the Borg Queen's inner sanctum."

"We did," she replied, a ghost of pride in her voice.

The lift door opened and Tuvok and Harry stepped off, followed by Seven. They walked to their stations and relieved everyone, taking up familiar places for the two-day journey to the outer edge of the Maquis DMZ. Once there they would launch the freighter and run with her cloaked. Standing nearby, they would wait for her to leave Khitomer, hopefully without anyone chasing them and pick her up again. It would be up to the four of them how it went on the planet. Once there were there they would do what they planned piercing the security net and walking shielded using the dampeners as long as possible as they searched for their people in the Brig and Hospital.

He sighed and relaxed his body, the familiar needle pricks of anxiety filling him for a moment or two. Two days, he thought. Two days and his father might be that much closer to him again.

**********Star Fleet HQ, Khitomer ...

He sat on a chair, his head throbbing. They had talked to him for about two hours asking the same questions over and over again. He hadn't answered them, his confusion and the damage to his memory making him an iffy prospect at best.

Blanchard watched noting the genuine inability of the Bajoran to tell more than marginally useful things. He had learned that Chakotay was a major player. He knew that already. He learned that they had a big base way behind the DMZ some place. The Bajoran was unclear where it was.

Tabor sat anxiously looking from one face to the other, uncertain why he was there and filled with emotional torment over his inability to tell them what they demanded. Tears had fallen running down his marred face and he rubbed them with his hand, his sleeve gripped tightly in his fingers.

The two men interrogating him pressed on aware that their efforts were probably as futile with this one as they were with the older Maquis that sat stone-faced and molten with hatred every time they approached him. "Tell me about Nayib," one asked again.

Tabor looked at him, the frown of pain and confusion on his face almost painful look at. He blinked his eyes thinking through the jumble of broken images and noises that was his memory now as he tried to remember. He could remember dark eyes, a beautiful smile and a soft voice. He remembered big laughter and soft lips. That primordial part of his memory, sex and emotion, joy and sensation tormented him with particles of the life they told him he had lived.

Images came to him in his dreams, the figure of a big man touching and holding him and he struggled to remember why that was so important. They had shown him a picture of Nayib hoping to jar his memory. It had imprinted on his mind, overlaying the blur that had been the man they had said was his lover. It would be there like a reflection in a rainy window and he would worry it over turning and analyzing it, finding the answers just out of reach. Sighing, he hung his head, staring at his lap and his hands that wrung fitfully.

"I don't think we're going to get more," a man said turning toward the Vice President.

Blanchard sighed and rose, walking over and sitting down across from the slight tormented figure of Tabor. He thought a moment and leaned forward resting his hand on Tabor's leg. "Do you want to see him? Do you want to see Nayib?" he asked noting with satisfaction that the Bajoran's dark eyes glanced up quickly. Tabor nodded uncertainly staring from one unfamiliar face to another.

"Good," Blanchard said smiling slightly. He glanced at the two men standing behind him. "Bring the Maquis to the other interrogation room."

They nodded and turned walking out of the room. Tabor watched them go and then looked at Blanchard, fear in his eyes. Blanchard smiled and patted his leg. "We're going to bring your boy friend, Nayib. He will want to see you."

Tabor blinked, a tear slipping from his eyes. He nodded still not clear on how it all fit together but internally pleased that this man they said loved him would be coming. Maybe he could explain what was going on and help him remember who and what he was.

Blanchard rose and turned, walking to the door. He turned and gestured, signaling Tabor to follow him. He rose hesitantly, moving toward the door. As he approached, Blanchard slipped his arm around Tabor's shoulders guiding him with him. They stepped out, moving down the hallway and into a small corridor between two rooms. They stopped and turned toward a darkened window. Blanchard pressed a panel and the light inside the room came on. Standing in the middle raging with silence was Nayib.

Blanchard turned to Tabor, noting the younger man staring at Nayib carefully. He moved closer to the window his eyes never leaving the volcanic fury of Nayib's face. He sighed raggedly and turned to Blanchard, searching past him for the door with his dark eyes.

"It's right over here," Blanchard said moving aside and pressing a button. The man inside paused, staring at the opening door and Tabor watched him noting the wariness on his face.

Moving slowly past Blanchard Tabor walked to the door and paused, taking a deep shaking breath. Finally, he turned and stepped inside moving enough for the door to close behind him. Nayib was stilled, shocked by Tabor's pallor and his angry scars. He blinked and stepped forward, stopping before the smaller man. Nayib looked at Tabor, his emotions churning inside and then he pulled him into his arms embracing him tightly. The younger man sighed and leaned into him closing his eyes as he did. This man knew him and this man would help him. This he knew.

Blanchard stood by the window watching, noting that his hunch had been true. The Bajoran was the Maquis' lover. They were together. This might help. This might be what he really needed to break out of the rut. With a smile, he pressed another button and a recording device silently began to run.

**********Nearby ...

Kolopak sat in his cell silent and sullen with emotions that ranged from homicidal fury to deep depression. He had been unable to sleep since the execution of his son and he had lost weight. Blanchard had come by twice threatening and cajoling, promising and dismissing in his attempt to get information out of him. He had stared at the man, drilling him with the hatred he felt as he ignored the man who had murdered his son.

Nothing Blanchard could do to him could equal what had happened and there were moments when death beckoned him with open arms. He could feel himself falling toward it and then the face of his wife and children would intervene. They would pull him back from the precipice and he would be back in this cell sitting and waiting for whatever they decided to do next.

It was silent here, deeply isolating and he felt like the only human being left on the earth. He knew that was what they intended. What they hadn't intended was his absolute intractable unwillingness to help them. That they had bought with the lifeblood of his boy. For days, he sat silently and then he sang the death song of his people for his boy making a connection with his spirit in the darkness of his agony. It had pulled him back from the brink and had given him the resolve to keep fighting them.

Blanchard had not come back in a few days and he wasn't sure that he would. However if he did Kolopak resolved himself to silence. He would die before he would betray one scrap of information to the murderers of his boy. He would never betray his principles to them.

Ever.

**********Far away...

Jake Sisko stepped off the ship onto the deck of Deep Space Nine. He had noted the intense activity inside and out as the Federation hustled repairs on this outpost of their power. He had not heard that it was attacked, that information being suppressed and it had surprised him. He hurried along the corridors heading for the command center and his father's presence. Passing security and work crews, he found his way there scanning the knots of people for the familiar face of his father. Ben Sisko turned, stopping with surprise and waved his arm catching Jake's eye. Jake smiled and hurried over, hugging his father tightly.

"Jake! What are you doing here?" Ben asked, his face filled with delight.

"I came to see you," Jake said, glancing around. "What happened?"

Ben considered his question and shrugged. "We were attacked."

Jake looked back at his father regarding him with his dark eyes.

"The Maquis?"

Ben thought a moment and shrugged. "You're here for more than just me aren't you."

Jake smiled helplessly. "I'm here for you and to find out what's happening out here. I need to talk to you, Dad."

Ben regarded him a moment and then turned leading Jake into his office. The door closed and he turned noting his son's intensity. "What brought you here?"

"Miriam Paris," Jake replied noting the look of surprise in his father's face. "Dad, I think we need to talk."

Ben stood silently for a moment. "What did she tell you?"

"She told me that the Federation Vice President is trying to destroy the Maquis."

"And?"

"She said that the honor of the Federation charter was at stake."

Ben considered his words and then sighed deeply. "Sit down, son. Tell me everything you know."

**********At the nebula ...

She had left earlier followed by Harry, Seven and Tuvok. He had nodded to them as they left and by the time they had launched Neelix' freighter they were already cloaked again. They would shadow the little ship, running silently and when she entered the atmosphere of Khitomer accepted by the security grid, then they would turn and pull back to the nebula.

It would be a long wait there, two days the maximum. When it was over, hopefully, they would have their people again. If not then they were supposed to leave. Chakotay considered that part of his orders and knew that he wouldn't. If he had to shoot up the entire planet to get them all out, he would. He sat back relaxing his tense muscles as he settled in. Tom flew them along and by the time they reached the security net everyone was silent with anticipation.

The markers picked up the small freighter and Janeway acknowledged their signal. Moving farther in they gave their identification and for silent moments, two ships waited to hear confirmation. When it came, Chakotay let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and relaxed again. The freighter moved on heading down into the atmosphere of Khitomer.

"Take us out of here, Tom," Chakotay said, watching as the younger man's fingers flew over the console. The view of Khitomer fell away and stars filled the screen as they moved off heading back for the nebula.

In two days, they might have their people. In four, they would be back with Enterprise. Who knew how it would all turn out? He didn't he thought as he mused on their position. He felt confident in their technological superiority and their resolve. However, he was aware of the fickleness of fate and so much depended on a string of things happening exactly as planned that he knew they were balancing on the edge of a razor. It could as easily fall apart as work out.

They would all just have to wait.

**********On Khitomer ...

They sat together huddled on the small couch near the back of the room. Nayib held Tabor tightly, the younger man pressed against him silently. They didn't talk, the overwhelming emotion of being together overpowering. He was glad. He didn't think he could speak if he had to. Tabor was ill, it was very clear how badly he had been hurt and the vice grip of his desire to protect and save his lover more injury clamped on him hard. It was a moment he had dreaded having to decide what he would betray, the force that he gave his blood to, or the only man he knew he would ever love. He sighed and pulled Tabor closer.

"Do I know you?" the younger man whispered.

Nayib closed his eyes, emotion filling his heart. "Yes, you do," Nayib whispered back.

"I don't remember you very much," Tabor whispered burrowing closer to Nayib's warmth.

"It's okay, baby. I'll remember for the both of us," Nayib whispered softly.

=0=


	22. Chapter 22

=0=

Book Twenty-Two: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

They fell out of warp at the last known point of space that the small freighter had occupied. The signature of a Federation ship could be detected and the signature of phaser fire as well. Chakotay stood behind Tom staring at the empty screen with loathing. He had no idea what kind of fight had taken place but the evidence of one was clear to be seen.

The freighter was gone, evidently drawn into the ship's hold as there was no sign of debris that signaled something worse. Knowing Janeway the way he did, he knew that she would hold them off as long as possible. Now they were prisoners and who knew if they were alive or not.

He had to believe they were, as the alternative was so impossibly terrible that he feared the loss of his sanity if it wasn't so. Turning, he barked orders.

"Put our sensors out there, piggyback them on our array if you have to but I want that ship as soon as you can. They can't get within calling distance of help."

The ops officer, a former 'Fleet officer married to a Maquis nodded and bent over her panel searching for the elusive ship. It was silent for about twenty minutes before she sounded out. "I have them. Oh-one hundred mark ten," she said.

Chakotay rose from his chair and walked to the navigation computer watching as the coordinates distilled a picture of the ship they were chasing relative to themselves. They were on an intercept course and would have the advantage. They would be two hours out from their own base and the two other scout ships were more than five to seven hours away from being useful. They would have more than two hours to resolve this in their favor.

Or not.

"Take us there, stealth mode."

Tom nodded and moved to make it so, the sleek ship flashing through the night toward the enemy moving with relative leisure toward their home. They had no idea that they were being pursued and Chakotay was clear that they had no idea that the freighter was being supported by a cloaked ship. The Federation's disgust with cloaking technology as somehow not 'fair' had led them into a position of being helpless before their superior technology and Chakotay again was glad.

It was their edge.

"We have them on the leading edge of our sensors, Captain," the ops officer said, glancing up.

Chakotay nodded and turned to the screen, bending over Tom's shoulder as he did.

"I want to come up on their stern, right behind their left nacelle. Make it stealth. I don't want to show up in their warp wash."

Tom nodded, glancing up. Chakotay looked like a statue, his command face firmly in place. "I'll get us there, Chakotay."

The older man nodded, putting his hand on Tom's shoulder. "I know."

He turned and walked back to the command chairs and stepped up, walking to the console behind his seat. Peering at the screen, he noted that the ship was becoming more than just a blip on the monitors. It was taking shape.

Soon it would be in a battle that he hoped they would not regret having.

**********At the interception ...

They had come alongside the listing ship, their carefully placed shot more than they had anticipated. Rand looked at the sputtering vessel with a certain amount of dread. Turning, she waited for her tactical officer's report.

"They're still alive. There don't appear to be any serious injuries. The ship has damage in propulsion and weapons but is structurally sound and capable of repair."

"Good," Rand said, relieved. "Security teams to the hangar deck. I want her pulled in and I want her boarded. Take prisoners with the minimum of force."

"Acknowledged."

She sat back, watching as a tractor beam launched and fastened on the scarred hull of the little freighter. It disappeared as it was pulled backward, moving toward the open hatch of the hangar deck. In a few moments it would enter her own ship and she would be there, phaser in hand as specially trained shock troops entered the ship to seize prisoners. Calling for her Sick Bay to stand by, she gave command over to her conn and hurried to the lift.

In minutes she was there with the others, watching as the burnt and battered ship settled down on the deck. The air was returned to the bay and the barrier dropped, allowing heavily armored troops to move in. They lined up along the hull on each side of the door and waited as the point man blew the combination to release the hatch. It popped and opened and they poured in, the sound of shouts and a muffled shot echoed in the big hangar deck.

She stood watching, listening as more shots rang out and then it was silent.

"Lead One to Captain Rand."

"Rand here."

"We have them. We're secured. We have casualties."

"Beam them directly to Sick Bay. Bring the others to me."

"Acknowledged."

For a moment there was no activity and then the door opened and several people began to disgorge from the little ship. Guards mingled with strangers from the ship stepped into her view and she regarded them, recognizing two of them right away. Stepping forward, she looked at them grimly.

"Welcome aboard the Ulysses, Captain Janeway, Mr. Tuvok."

Janeway looked at her with intense defiance and Tuvok made no show of acknowledging her. She turned and nodded.

"Take all the uninjured people to the Brig. I'll be in Sick Bay."

With that she turned and walked to the lift as Kathryn and Tuvok stood silently as others joined them. In a few moments they were gathered together and then they began the long walk to the Brig and captivity once more. As she walked Kathryn calculated the hours it would take for her ship and Chakotay to find them. She figured they had a two hour cushion before the reached the influence of Khitomer and the help that could be had there for the Ulysses. It would be more than enough time for Chakotay to take this ship and free them from their confinement.

She entered the lift, surrounded by guards and disappeared into the bowels of Ulysses on her way to a small Federation cell.

**********Nearby ...

They came up on Ulysses without a sound, moving to fly just out of the warp wash of the left nacelle. They had scanned her, covering their scrutiny with the dampening effect of the cloaking device. If their scans showed up at all it would be so minor as to be written off as a glitch in software or as a minor electrical surge.

They had located the freighter in the hangar deck and had tapped into the comm system, listening silently to the command traffic between the hangar and the Bridge and the hangar and the Sick Bay. Chakotay bit his lip and rose, turning to his ops operator.

"I want every transmission they make, any call they send out jammed."

"They'll know we're here," Tom offered, glancing back at Chakotay.

"They will in a moment," Chakotay replied, turning and nodding to his ops operator.

"Aye sir," she replied.

He turned and walked forward. "I want shots aimed at their weapons systems and their propulsion. I want them listing in the water without the capacity to move or fire."

It was silent for a moment and then his tactical officer, a Maquis from his own home world called out.

"Ready, Chakotay."

"Good," Chakotay said, turning to ops. "Ready to jam any kind of message they might send out? They can't let Khitomer know they have our people."

"I'm ready, Captain," she said.

He turned and looked at the screen. "Power up weapons and be ready to do a strafing run over past the ship, Tom. I want a tight turn away and a return to just behind them."

"Aye," Tom said, programming his ship to comply.

Chakotay stepped to the navigation computer and stared at the screen.

"Roberto, fire."

The ship convulsed slightly as energy was generated, focused and fired in tight beams. It shot out, strafing the pristine hull of the smaller vessel before them and then she was gone as Tom executed a tight turn away. They moved in a tight circle and then the ship was in their screen once more. She was on fire in both nacelles, plasma threading out in bright burning streams and the weapons array on top was burning and sparking.

"They're broadcasting an SOS," Roberto said, glancing up at the screen.

"It's jammed," Ops replied.

"Ship to ship," Chakotay barked, waiting as the screen flickered.

"This is the Maquis battle cruiser Crazy Horse. We have you dead to rights and there is no escape. Surrender your vessel and we'll let you live. Fight on and you'll die."

A woman's face, an older woman, appeared on the screen, her blonde hair slightly askew. She looked at him with hatred in her eyes.

"This is an outrage! What right do you have attacking a Federation ship in Federation space?"

"You have our people. If you want to survive this encounter, if you want your crew to live, surrender now or we'll take your ship apart deck by fucking deck. Choose now!"

Tom listened to Chakotay's harsh terms, his voice cold and ruthless and knew that it was necessary. He also knew that this was not the man that Chakotay was but they were not living in normal times. They had to get this under control, their people out and leave before Federation help could arrive.

She stared at him and then off to one side. Her indecision and rage warred on her face and then she turned to him.

"What terms do you offer?"

"Your people will be taken aboard our ship and receive treatment. They will be placed in custody in one of our cargo bays. We can discuss further terms once that is accomplished peacefully. Make no mistake, Captain, if you don't agree we are prepared to take your ship apart. We want our people now."

She paused and then nodded. "You will treat my people according to the Federation Conventions of War?"

Chakotay nodded. "Yes. Stand down now and order your people not to resist. We are not going to spend a lot of time arguing. Anyone who can't comply will be taken by force. The consequences of that will be yours alone."

She looked at him coldly. "Very well. Give me a moment."

The screen returned to the star field and Chakotay turned, nodding to Roberto.

"I want to know if she's arming the self destruct. I want this ship."

He nodded and bent to the task, the Bridge filled with tension as they waited. Two minutes later, she was back on screen. "My ship is standing down. My people are prepared to surrender."

"Lower your shields and prepare to be beamed aboard our ship."

She nodded and turned off screen.

"Shields down, Chakotay," Roberto said. "No indication that she's arming the self destruct."

"Good," Chakotay said, watching the screen. "Tell Sick Bay to prepare to receive victims. Have security down there to manage the hostiles."

Roberto nodded and made it so. Chakotay watched, fidgeting as he did and then the screen came on again.

"Our shields are down," Rand said.

"Good," Chakotay said. "Stand by."

For the next ten minutes they scanned the ship and beamed off its crew in bunches of five. They were collect in cargo bay four and all the injured were sent to Sick Bay. When they were all off, the Bridge crew was gathered. Chakotay turned and left the Bridge, the command transferred temporarily to Roberto. Tom, tapped to go as well, followed him into the lift.

They stood together, Chakotay silent and tense as they journeyed onward to the Sick Bay.

"They'll be there. They'll be all right," Tom said, slipping his fingers into Chakotay's.

"I know," he replied, his voice less than certain. "Come with me. Stay with me."

Tom nodded and squeezed Chakotay's hand. Chakotay squeezed back and the lift stopped, the door opening. Chakotay stepped out and Tom followed. They walked past people sitting along the corridor, armed guards here and there guarding them. Entering the Sick Bay, he walked past numbers of people with burns and broken bones, searching for the few that mattered most to him.

Sitting on a diagnostic bed, his head hanging forward, Kolopak rested after an examination by the Doc. Chakotay paused, shocked by the sight of his father and then he stepped forward, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. The head rose, dark eyes -familiar warm eyes- looked at him.

"Papa?" Chakotay whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he swallowed. His throat was dry and his hands felt tingly as he waited for some recognition from the ghost before him.

"Chakotay?"

His father's voice, a voice inflected with Spanish and Indian overtones, greeted his ears like the whisper of a long-lost lover. He closed his eyes, blinking back tears and then he looked at the face before him.

"Papa," Chakotay croaked around the lump in his throat.

The older man rose and stood on unsteady feet, a dark bruise on his cheek testimony to their attack. He slipped his arms around his son and held onto him, the solidity of Chakotay soothing to his tattered nerves. Behind him, watching with his arm around Tabor, Nayib watched as Chakotay held his father once more. He sighed deeply, relieved to be alive. Tabor clung to him, his arms wrapped around Nayib's body as he watched the clamor around him.

Tom turned, noting Nayib's presence. He stepped toward him, gripping his hand tightly. He looked at Tabor, swallowing deeply at the change in the small Bajoran. He held out his hand.

"Hello, Tabor. I'm glad you're home with us," Tom said gently.

Tabor looked at him and then tentatively took Tom's hand.

"Do you know me?" he asked hopefully.

Tom swallowed and looked at Nayib, noting the pain on Nayib's face.

"He's been hurt. We need to get him to a healer as fast as we can."

Tom nodded. "I'll tell Chakotay. The others. Are they okay?"

"They are. We were hit with a stun or two but nothing major. We didn't really resist but when it got complicated tempers went over the edge."

Tom nodded. "You need to talk to Chakotay when you get a moment. He's really hurting over this. I can't tell you what a relief it is to have you back safely."

Nayib nodded. "How are things in the negotiations?"

"We're getting ready to negotiate with the 'Fleet," Tom replied. "We have less than a day to meet up with Bey. We have to get out of here and try and keep the deadline."

Nayib nodded. "What about the scout ship?"

"I don't know. That's up to Chakotay."

They turned and noted that Chakotay and Kolopak had turned and walked toward them. Tom turned and faced them, nervous tension filling him. They paused, Chakotay moving to stand next to Tom.

"Papa, this is Tom Paris, Owen Paris' son," Chakotay said.

Kolopak turned toward Tom and regarded him, then his son once more. Cocking his head slightly, he looked at his son.

"Is that all he is, son?"

Chakotay flushed, caught off guard by his father's comment. Tom grinned in spite of himself.

"No ... that is, he's also my helmsman," Chakotay stammered.

"Yeah, helmsman," Nayib said, chuckling.

Tom grinned at Chakotay and slipped his hand into the older man's. "Chakotay, we better get going," Tom said.

Chakotay licked his lips and nodded. "We have to destroy the scout ship is we can't tow it. We're running against a deadline."

"Then you better destroy it. If the Federation finds out you broke the ceasefire to come here and break us out then all bets are off," Kolopak said.

They all looked at him, surprised.

"Blanchard and I had a few conversations," Kolopak said in explanation.

"Before they hanged me by the neck," Nayib finished, drawing the astonished gaze of everyone around him. "It's a long, long story," he said, a grim look on his face. "We better get going, Chakotay."

He nodded and turned, resting a hand on his father's shoulder.

"Rest and I'll be back," he said, turning and tapping Tom on the shoulder. They moved away, heading for the Bridge. "Chakotay to Janeway."

"Janeway here."

"Meet me on the Bridge. Bring Tuvok."

"Understood. Janeway out."

They walked out the door, leaving the rest of them behind. Kolopak stared at the door and then turned to the others, noting the small Bajoran standing alongside of his son.

"He hasn't changed a bit has he," Kolopak asked, a slight grin forming on his face.

"Nope," Nayib replied, grinning broadly. "Papa, I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting my friend here. This is Tabor."

Kolopak smiled and held out his hand, the younger man taking it hesitantly.

"Do you know me?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Nayib swallowed hard, hugging Tabor. Kolopak looked from his son to the Bajoran and smiled.

"No, but I'm sure that I will given enough time."

Tabor just nodded, mystified but hopeful. Maybe when it was all said and done he would know who he was himself. That would be a big, big relief. A relief that would be felt by more than just him.


	23. Chapter 23

Book Twenty-Three: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

"May I ask where *you're* going?"

He turned and looked at the doctor standing outraged behind him.

"I'm going to assist my son in this business."

Kolopak looked at the doctor, a man dressed in Maquis clothes holding a tricorder in his hand. He was scanning him, Kolopak knew. He also knew that the extraordinary being facing him was a hologram.

"I think you need rest but *hey*! What would *I* know? I'm only the doctor."

Kolopak smiled and nodded. "You sound like me directing my sons."

The EMH sighed and nodded. "You are the man responsible for the Commander I assume."

"Partly," Kolopak replied, smiling broader. "I take responsibility for what I can control, which isn't much. He's a contrary person, that one."

"You're telling *me*."

Kolopak turned and walked out the door, leaving an exasperated hologram behind. He sighed and shook his head.

"The acorn didn't fall far from the tree I can see," Doc muttered, turning and walking back to his other patients.

Kolopak walked to the lift, passing people who didn't quite remember who he was. They paused in his wake, intrigued by the 'something' that jolted a distant memory and the tattoo that he wore on his forehead. Entering, he smiled as the door closed. He stared at the ceiling, considering what he should say. "Computer, locate Chakotay of Dorvan V."

"Captain Chakotay is on the Bridge."

Kolopak nodded. "Bridge."

The lift began to move and he waited patiently, noting that it took seconds to travel half of the ship. He stepped out, the broad well-lit curve of the Bridge stretching out before him. He paused, getting his bearings and stepped out again. A woman moved toward him, a smile on her face.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said, opening her arms.

He smiled broadly, moving to hug her tightly. "It's good to see you, B'Elanna. It's been too many years."

She held him tightly, hugging him as tightly as she could. He had been a mentor to her, someone she met before she met Chakotay. When he had been 'killed', she felt she had lost her father again. It had been part of what made her gravitate to Chakotay, the sense of loss of family that his 'passing' had created in her. She smiled and squeezed his arm. "I suppose you're looking for Chakotay."

"I was wondering where he was," he replied with a smile. "Go down that corridor," she said, pointing out the path to the Ready Room. "He's in there."

"Thank you," Kolopak replied, squeezing her hand. He turned and walked in that direction, disappearing down the hallway as B'Elanna stood watching. She rubbed her eyes and turned, walking back to her station once more.

"May I come in?"

Chakotay turned and smiled broadly. "Sure. Just wipe your feet."

Kolopak smirked and shook his head. "You're the same old disrespectful young pup that you always were." He walked in, hugging his son as Chakotay rose from his desk. Turning, Chakotay gestured to his chair and Kolopak took it gratefully.

"How did you get past the Doc?" he asked, noting with concern his father's fatigue.

"You know me and technology," Kolopak quipped, sitting with a grin on his face. "What are we discussing? That is, if you don't mind including me."

Chakotay looked at him, at the man who had been instrumental in the formulation of the Maquis and glanced at Nayib. "I don't think so. He might be a security risk."

A slow grin crossed Nayib's face as he glanced at his father. "I have to agree."

"To hell with both of you," Kolopak said cordially. "Tell me what you're going to do."

Chakotay smiled broadly and moved to the window. Outside, the scout ship listed slightly as she was held in a tractor beam by Crazy Horse. "I think we have to dump her into a star's gravity well. We've taken her computer core and all the equipment that we can pry loose and now we have to dump her."

"We don't have time to rendezvous at the meeting place let along tow her with us. I'd like to have her but we'll be lucky to make the meeting as it is," Nayib said noting his father's agreement.

"I figured as much myself," Kolopak said glancing at Chakotay. "I can't get over the abundance of equipment and ships. This is incredible to me that we're discussing dumping a ship."

Chakotay turned and stared at his father, mesmerized by his face and voice. "Things are different, Papa. Even for me. Bey did a good job."

"He did," Kolopak replied. "I look forward to seeing him under better conditions."

Kathryn sat nearby, Seven at her side. Tuvok was sitting on a chair and listening quietly. The three men talking ogether intrigued her. They were very much alike and their rapport was as comfortable as if they had never been separated. She turned her head, noting Tom's keen interest as well.

"We should dump it into the gravity well of a star and get out of here," Nayib said, staring at a screen on a wall. "There's a small star nearby. If we tow it by shuttle and get it moving it should be swallowed up and incinerated in short time."

"Tom can fly it there, towing it. We can automate it to fly onward once the shuttle puts it into position. Tom can catch up with us when he's finished," Chakotay said glancing at his lover.

Tom nodded. "I would need a couple of people to help me."

"Take Harry and Seven," Chakotay said.

Tom rose and turned, glancing at his lover. "We'll go now and that way even if you leave we can be on sensors."

Chakotay nodded and watched as the three left the room. Turning to his father he smiled. "Let's get going. We have to meet Bey on the Liberty in only a few hours."

"We'll be late," Nayib said.

"Better late than never."

**********On a shuttle nearby...

They moved out, the ship following behind them. They towed her just enough to steer and the few remaining functioning systems of the Ulysses cooperated in their limited way. By the time they had reached the outer limits of safety, the tugging of the scout ship by the gravity of the star was almost more than they could compensate for.

"Time to cut her loose," Tom said holding the shivering shuttle firmly in place.

"Complying," Seven said her voice calm and steady.

There was a jolting shudder and the ship moved past them heading toward the star that filled the view screen. They powered back, reversing away from her and watched as she gathered speed. The star was far away, the deadly radiation that it cast already eating into the ship's integrity even this far away. Tom reversed away from the pull of gravity until he was outside the tug of gravity that was pulling the scout ship at a rapidly increasing pace. Watching on the monitor, the muted forward screen showing the rapidly fading scout ship as a bright dot, they noted a flash and explosion. In a burst of light, Ulysses disappeared into minute particles of space dust and plasma.

"That's done," he whispered, turning the shuttle around. They sped on, silent in their reflections until the Crazy Horse signaled their presence. Giving over control to the cloaked ship, they watched it materialize as the guidance system pulled them into the hangar deck. In seconds the great doors shut and she vanished once more, disappearing into the night as silently as a ghost.

**********Mess Hall, Crazy Horse...

They sat together, eating dinner in the almost empty room. Tabor sat with them, his eyes flickering between the two almost strangers as they caught up on their lives apart. He knew they were related Father and son, Nayib had said and he felt good sitting with them. It gave him a sense of belonging to something other than his own fears and insecurities. Nayib had told him of doctors 'back home'. Where back home was he didn't know but he had come to trust Nayib, feeling safe in his company and he looked forward to having someone help him out of the fog that dogged his every step.

He also felt deep embarrassment over the red stripes that ran from his forehead down the side of his face to his shoulder. They had been given a cabin and Nayib had told him gently to bathe himself and get fresh clothes. He had sat outside the shower, towel in hand and when Tabor had peeked out, rose and handed it to him with a smile. "Don't be shy with me," Nayib had said. "You and I have few secrets."

Tabor considered that, holding the towel self-consciously in front of him. "But you know them all. I don't," he had finally replied.

A soft expression formed on Nayib's face as he considered the unease in his lover's voice. Moving closer, he gently took Tabor's face into his hands. "I'll tell you every one. There won't be anything I won't tell you," he had whispered, his dark eyes filled with emotion.

Tabor had stared at him and then nodded leaning into Nayib's soft kiss. He sighed and opened his eyes. "You make me feel better."

"Good," Nayib said. "Dry yourself, Tabor and come on out. I have replicated clothes for you."

The younger man nodded and began to comply bringing as he did a lump to Nayib's throat. When Tabor was dressed Nayib did his own business and then hand-in-hand they stepped out to join his father for dinner in the Mess Hall. For a few hours it would be like the old days when they would sit around the table in their house talking about everything together.

**********On the way to the Bridge...

Tom stepped off the lift and walked to the Ready Room where he knew Chakotay was working. Entering, he smiled and moved to where the older man sat, leaning down and kissing him softly. "Deed accomplished," he said with a smile.

Chakotay nodded, smiling back at his lover. "Good. You came back too. That's also good. Your performance evaluation is looking better by the minute."

"Do the Maquis give staff evaluations?" Tom aske, moving a chair next to the desk. He sat down and leaned an elbow on the desktop, grinning at Chakotay.

"On a number of things you won't see on a Star Fleet evaluation," Chakotay said, his eyes narrowing in playful lust.

"Such as?"

"When was the last time you ever had a supervisor evaluate you for all around sexual performance?"

Tom snorted, chuckling as he considered the buttoned down and dignified public persona of Chakotay as opposed to the lusty, earthy and funny man that he lived with. That man was capable of saying and doing anything. "I don't recall that ever being considered as part of the promotion and advancement scale."

"Too bad. The Maquis have sliding scales, Tom. There are categories of expertise that we evaluate that Star Fleet doesn't even know exists."

"Such as?" Tom asked, grinning broadly.

Chakotay leaned forward, a sultry look of amusement on his face. He paused, his lips nearly touching Tom's. "Take the category on oral sex for instance..."

Tom snorted, brushing his nose against Chakotay's. "Oh do. Let's."

Chakotay smiled and leaned in again. "Your ratings in that category are off the scale, Paris. In fact if I were running Star Fleet, I would make you Admiral in charge of blow jobs."

Tom snorted and laughed laying his head on the desk top. He sat up again, moving closer to his lover. "You would? I suppose I would operate out of a bordello and not an office."

"You'd operate out of my bedroom, Paris," Chakotay said leaning back with a smug look on his face. "Of course, you would need hours of practice to keep your skills honed."

"Hours and hours," Tom agreed,smirking at his smug lover.

"And who would be the lucky man to be my personal trainer?"

Chakotay grinned again. "You have to ask?"

"No," Tom said, leaning back in his chair. "I don't."

"You don't."

"Nayib to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Don't you ever eat?"

Chakotay grinned. "Where are you?"

"Papa and I are in the Mess Hall. Get down here, okay?"

"On our way. Chakotay out."

He rose and stretched, moving toward the door, his hand resting on the small of Tom's back. Out the door they went and onward to the lift, entering and calling out the deck for the Mess hall. "You always do that."

"What?" Chakotay asked.

"Put your hand on my back when we walk together."

"I do."

"I like it."

"Good," Chakotay said.

Tom turned and looked at him, a bemused look on his face. "You really are a man who wants his way."

"You noticed that," Chakotay said resting his hands on Tom's waist.

"I did."

Chakotay pulled him closer, feeling the comfort of Tom's contours against his own. "You fill me with such feelings, Tom. It's hard to describe."

Tom slid his hands up Chakotay's arms, resting them by his neck. "You make me feel like I belong to something."

"To me," Chakotay proffered leaning in for a soft kiss.

"Yes," Tom replied, leaning into Chakotay's comforting embrace.

The lift stopped and they reluctantly parted, moving out and down the corridor. They entered the Mess Hall, now empty but for Nayib, Kolopak and Tabor. Moving from the replicators, they took their trays and joined the party pulling chairs up to their table.

"Took you long enough," Nayib said, grinning at his younger brother.

"You caught us at a bad moment," Chakotay said stirring sugar into his tea.

"I see," Nayib replied his voice filled with implications.

"You have a dirty mind, Nub," Chakotay said snickering at Tom's discomfort.

"You do?" Tabor asked peering up from his pie with a quizzical look.

Nayib glanced at him and then Chakotay. "No. Tell him, Chakotay."

"He doesn't, Tabor. I'm just joking." Chakotay looked at the younger man, noting the struggle in his expression. "How do you feel today?"

"Better," Tabor said glancing at Nayib nervously. "I think I feel better."

"Good," Chakotay replied gently. "It won't be long until things get better. When we get to Liberty you can have someone help you."

"There's a healer on board?" Nayib asked glancing at his brother sharply.

"Yes," Chakotay replied. "I asked for one to come along just in case."

Nayib exhaled with relief, emotion forming on his face. "Thanks," he said softly.

Tabor looked at him frowning slightly at Nayib's suddenly sad face. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

Nayib nodded and looked at Tabor, blinking his eyes for a second. "I'm just fine, babe," he replied with a sigh.

=0=

Book Twenty-Three: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

"It's late."

"I know. You go on ahead. I'd like to talk to Thomas."

Tom paused and relaxed in his chair again, watching as Chakotay and the others rose and walked to dump their trays. Chakotay glanced back and grinned, noting Tom's nonchalant posture. They left and the two men were alone, sitting by the window as the ship flew on. Kolopak smiled. "You look tense."

"It's sort of my natural condition lately."

"Nayib told me about your past year."

Tom sighed. "It was hardly the sort of welcome I expected."

Kolopak nodded. "You're in love with my son. That's very obvious."

Tom felt the red creep up his neck. "I am."

Kolopak smiled again. "You're very nervous about it aren't you."

"I'm not exactly the sort of person a parent might want for their child," Tom began shifting uneasily in his chair.

Kolopak grinned. "Your father is a big man in Star Fleet. That's nothing to do with you."

"All my life it was important. To other people that is. I never knew where I stood."

"You stand on your own two feet on your own path," Kolopak suggested. "It will take you where you're going anyway."

Tom grinned slightly. "Chakotay was at the end of it, waiting."

"So it would seem."

Tom considered him a moment. "Why did you ask Chakotay if all I was to him was a pilot?"

Kolopak considered Tom's words and a slow grin spread across his face. "Do you really want to know?"

Tom nodded. "Yes."

Kolopak sighed and grinned. "You're his preferred type."

Tom was silent a moment and then leaned forward. "His type?"

"When my son first told me he preferred boys over girls I was consternated. My other son, Nayib he told me the same thing. I thought this couldn't happen. I wanted grandchildren. I wanted lots of grandchildren surrounding me in my old age. I wanted my sons to have sons."

Tom nodded.

"Now I have three sons, two of which could never give me grandchildren and I think, what did I do wrong? Of course, I didn't do anything wrong. They are who they are. They also have never hidden things from either their mother or me. Chakotay would find a boyfriend among the Anglos that lived in our town. I asked him once why he did that and he told me that he liked blonds. When I say you ... well ... it was a simple matter of deduction that you were more than just a helmsman. You were his type."

Tom smirked slightly, shaking his head. "Type. He likes blonds."

"He does," Kolopak said, smiling at Tom's bemusement. "I overhead Nayib and Chakotay talking once. They were comparing the various virtues of different kinds of men.

Chakotay was extolling the virtues of blue-eyed, long- legged blonds and Nayib was commenting on the virtues of almost anyone who would go out with him."

Tom snorted. "I can't imagine Nayib having any trouble in that department."

"No. I agree. However, you wouldn't believe my son," Kolopak said fondly. "You *have* heard of Maris?"

"I have. He sounds like a wonder of the world."

"Nayib loved him. I didn't think it would work out and then the war came and I never knew how that ended. I found out tonight talking to him. He has a new lover, Tabor. I like that he isn't with semi-self destructive Klingons anymore."

"You know I'm married but separated."

"I do," Kolopak replied.

"She's a semi-self destructive Klingon."

Kolopak smiled slightly, shaking his head. "I like Klingons. You always know where you stand with them. However they are volatile aliens."

"I know," Tom agreed, sighing deeply. "I think that's why I was pulled to Chakotay. He's so solid and so ... I don't know. He's not a 'swing first and ask questions later' kind of man. I like that, his stability."

Kolopak grinned. "He is. He's also headstrong, hardheaded and tenacious. My son is a passionate man but he's also very controlled in his reactions. It takes a lot to make him angry and to show it on his face. He's volcanic in his temper but calm and reasonable in his temperament. When he was young, he fought me tooth and nail about his future. I remember he could be very biting and hurtful with his words."

"That's hard to imagine. He's very kind," Tom replied. "I've seen him angry but it was always provoked."

"That sounds like him. He's matured a bit though," Kolopak replied. "He was always in a hurry. He was always short with impediments to his ultimate goal."

"Star Fleet."

Kolopak nodded. "Yes, the modern world. We have a traditional way of life and we fought to preserve it, leaving our home world and seeking another, better place to live. It isn't a minor thing, our traditions and culture. It's all encompassing."

"Chakotay is very strong in his beliefs," Tom replied, imagining a headstrong young boy butting heads with the man before him. "He keeps to those ways. They mean a lot to him."

"I'm glad to hear that. There's nothing smarter than a teenaged boy. They don't see value in the past. They look toward the future as if that is all that there is. We're a long path winding backwards and all along it wisdom was given. I'm glad that he finally understands that."

Tom nodded. "He does."

"Tell me about yourself, what you want," Kolopak asked noting with his dark eyes the sudden shift in Tom's comfort level.

"Me? There's not much to say," Tom demurred.

"Of course there is," Kolopak countered.

Tom considered a moment and shrugged slightly. "My father is an important man but we've been estranged all my life. Now, in the middle of this mess we want to try to make something better between us. My father was the one I wanted to please all my life and I guess I screwed it up."

Kolopak nodded. "Your father is a man who commands many men. It could be he forgot you weren't troops."

Tom smiled slightly. "He did. It wasn't always so. He was different before the Cardassians took him prisoner. He was a totally different man. Sure, he was ambitious. We have our own legacy too. But he was different ... better. Then it all changed and here we are."

"I'm sure there are more steps to this journey of yours," Kolopak proffered.

"Too many. Too many wrong turns," Tom replied, shaking his head. "Getting stuck in the Delta was the best thing that ever happened to me. It saved my life. It also let me meet up with Chakotay again."

"You're with my son. He and you are solid?"

Tom glanced up. "I think so. I know for me I am."

"Your wife?"

"We have nothing left between us. The Vedek, he made things impossible. She's a good person, B'Elanna. But she's rejected me. I can't even find common ground with her. So I don't think there's anything left between us to salvage. I'm going to file for divorce as soon as I can."

Kolopak nodded. "I love her. I remember her as a scared and angry girl. She became friends with Chakotay when I was lost. She needs someone."

"I don't want her to give up her friendship with Chakotay. I think she needs someone too."

Kolopak yawned suddenly, a flush of embarrassment rising on his cheeks.

"Excuse me," he said, noting Tom's big grin. "I think I'm more tired than even *I* thought."

"You should rest. We have a long and twisty road ahead of us," Tom said, rising.

Kolopak rose, gathering his tray together.

"Leave it," Tom suggested, noting Kolopak's fatigue. "Someone will come and get it or I will."

Kolopak smiled. "I'm usually more robust."

"I know," Tom said, slipping his arm through the older man's. "Sometimes you just need to lean on someone."

Kolopak smiled. "I'll lean on you now."

"Good," Tom said. "Did you know I'm a medic on this ship?"

"No," Kolopak said as they walked out the door of the empty room. "I imagine there are a lot of talents you possess."

Tom chuckled and paused, letting Kolopak enter the lift ahead of him. "I don't know about that. Let's just say I never did know when to quit."

The door slid shut, cutting off Kolopak's chuckle as they disappeared into the ship.

**********Enterprise...

They received the message that called for an extension of the meeting date. It was on the pretext of security but Owen considered that something had happened that had changed things a little. He had sent a message to his contacts on Khitomer and received an encoded message that the prisoners in the Brig had been taken. The installation had been battered by mines and they had not been able to retrieve them. He also learned that the scout ship Ulysses was missing.

Sitting in his cabin, the notes and plans of negotiations before him, Owen Paris waffled between a desire to laugh out loud and a burning rage. The Maquis had obviously broken in and out of the facility, taking the ceasefire down with them. On the other hand, he was amazed at how thrilled he felt at Blanchard's set back. Rising, he walked to the window, staring into space. He would have a private conversation with the Maquis leadership and see what happened to Ulysses. He would see if they really were in a position to negotiate something that would last or if this was a futile situation. He hoped not. Tom was with them and he was here. It had to work, he thought, it had to. Turning from the window, he walked to the couch nearby and stretched out, willing himself to rest as he waited for the Crazy Horse to arrive.

**********Captain's Cabin...

Tom entered and noted Chakotay sitting on the couch.

"Hi."

"Hi," Chakotay replied. "How was your chat?"

Tom grinned, moving to sit down next to his lover. He moved in close, Chakotay's arms closing around him. "So ... I'm your 'type'."

Chakotay smirked in spite of himself. "Yeah."

"Okay," Tom replied, chuckling. "You like long-legged, blue-eyed blonds."

"I always have," Chakotay conceded.

"How many blonds have you had before me?"

"Hundreds," Chakotay teased, kissing Tom softly. "Thousands."

"Shit," Tom replied, leaning into Chakotay.

They entwined, necking on the couch as the ship sped onward. It was silent but for the soft sounds of their touching and then Tom sighed. "You're a piece of work. Your father loves you. He respects you. You treated him like a dick when you were young."

Chakotay's expression became rueful. "Tell me about it."

"Well, that's water under the bridge," Tom said, leaning into the dark warmth of Chakotay's neck.

The older man tilted his head, feeling pleasure in the soft touch of Tom's lips on his neck. He sighed, closing his eyes.

"My father likes you."

"How do you know?" Tom asked, his voice muffled against Chakotay's neck.

"He wanted to talk to you. He only does that if he likes someone."

"Yeah?" Tom asked, peering at Chakotay a hopeful look on his face.

"Yeah," Chakotay said. "He only quizzed the ones he liked."

"Ones ..." Tom said pausing from nibbling on Chakotay's earlobe. "How many 'ones' are we talking about here?"

"Millions," Chakotay whispered rubbing his cheek against Tom's. "How many stars are there in the universe?"

"Shit," Tom said moving back to Chakotay's ear. The older man shivered and Tom sighed, totally contented. "You like that don't you?"

"Yeah," Chakotay replied, his hand drifting down to Tom's crotch. He slid it between Tom's legs and found his groin, gripping the bulge gently. "Keep going."

Tom swallowed, the pleasure between his legs blossoming like a flower. He leaned in and sucked on the soft skin of Chakotay's neck just as the comm line buzzed.

"Shit," Chakotay whispered, pausing to look at the ceiling.

"Chakotay here."

"Chakotay, we're at the rendezvous point."

"On my way, Nayib."

He sighed deeply. "I could learn to hate him."

"That's an impossibility," Tom said, grinning at his flustered lover.

"That's true," Chakotay said, leaning in to kiss Tom. He pulled him into his arms, squeezing Tom's groin one last time. Sighing with frustration, he sat back, looking at

Tom's flushed face. "We better cool down."

"Yeah," Tom said, rising. He pulled Chakotay to his feet and they kissed softly. "We better go."

"Yeah," Chakotay said, kissing Tom again.

Turning, they walked to the doorway, pausing once again for a kiss. With a deep sigh, Chakotay pulled himself together and they walked out, hand-in-hand. Entering the lift, they reached the Bridge in seconds, stepping out to take their stations. Tuvok stood by the command chair, side-by-side with Nayib. Kolopak was sitting on the chair usually reserved for First Officers and Tom leaned over him. "You should be resting, Kolopak."

"I am. Right here," Kolopak replied with a smile.

Tom grinned and shook his head. "You call *Chakotay* contrary ... at least I know he gets it honestly."

Kolopak smiled and chuckled. "True," he replied with a grin.

Tom moved forward and relieved the conn. Nearby, an animated figure imposed on the view screen, the Liberty hovered. It was as invisible to Enterprise as Crazy Horse and they poised themselves, awaiting orders.

"Enterprise is waiting. We better signal," Chakotay said.

"Not until Bey gets here," Nayib said, glancing at the lift as the doors opened. Bey stepped out, three Maquis committee members with him. Behind them, small and petite, Maria of Dorvan V stepped out too. Chakotay started, looking at the figure of his mother and then he glanced at his father. Kolopak had turned his head, entranced by the sight of his son. When Maria stepped off, he rose slowly, a look of dazed amazement on his face. She saw him at the same time, pausing and gripping the\ railing that ran along the curve of the Bridge. "Kolo," she whispered as Bey took hold of her arm. She moved forward, covering the distance between them in a haze of tears and joy. Stopping before Kolopak, she looked up into his eyes. "Varon ... amado," she whispered.**

He reached out, his hands cupping her pretty face gently. "Maria," he whispered as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his body. "Maria," he repeated over and over, softly chanting her name in his dazed joy.

Chakotay stood on the Bridge, his hand resting on Tom's shoulder as he himself sat at his station. Tom glanced up at Chakotay, noting the wash of emotion on his face. It was only exceeded by that of Beyvahl and Nayib.

Spanish to English Translations:

** varon means husband

amado means darling

=0=

Book Twenty-Three: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

"He's pretty scarred."

Nayib nodded swallowing hard. Tabor sat on the table, his eyes glancing from Nayib to the healer that stood next to him. Nayib licked his lips.

"They didn't have access to the types of medicine he needed at the Star Fleet Hospital on Khitomer. They said something about his body being toxic to normal treatments."

"That is a fact of life for a number of Bajorans," the healer agreed. "Many of them were subjects in Cardassian experiments. It has made them resistant to normal treatment protocols."

"What can you do? Tabor is scarred and he's had trauma to his brain. Can you help him?"

The healer thought a moment and nodded. "I can do a lot. However, its been a while so the scars may not be entirely eliminated. The brain trauma can be addressed. It may mean that not every memory comes back to him but it will improve things."

Nayib nodded. "When can you begin?"

"Now," the healer replied, glancing at Tabor.

"How long will it take? What exactly will you be doing to him?"

"The plastic surgery on his face and neck will be standard practice using drugs that he can assimilate. He is toxic to standard Federation protocols but those of us who deal with our people now, we have the newer methods and medications. The brain trauma will require surgery. It will take about four hours."

"Surgery?" Tabor asked his face paling.

Nayib nodded to the doctor and turned to Tabor, slipping his arms around the younger man's waist. The doctor stepped away leaving them alone. "It will heal you, Tabor. It'll be safe," Nayib soothed. "I'll be right here the whole time. When you're done you'll be well. You'll be even more beautiful than you are now. You have to trust me."

Tabor swallowed hard blinking back tears. "I'm afraid."

"I know," Nayib said pulling Tabor into his body. "You've been brave, babe. Now you have to be brave a little longer. I'll be right here the whole time."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"You won't leave me?"

"No, Tabor, I would never leave you. I hope you know that by now."

Tabor looked at him, strain evident on his face and then he leaned against Nayib, laying his face against Nayib's shoulder. "Okay," he whispered. "I'm still afraid."

"That's okay. I'm still here."

Glancing at the doorway Nayib nodded to the healer and to Julian Bashir who was going to assist. They moved in and Tabor was led to a changing room where he would be put into surgical clothes. Nayib stood by the door waiting for him and when he came out, Tabor hugged him as Nayib enveloped him with his arms. They stood together, holding each tightly and then the healer touched Nayib's arm. He sighed and let go, moving with Tabor to the surgical theatre. Tabor lay down on the table, his heart pounding and fear on his face. The healer moved to stand by his head, watching as Julian administered the anesthetic. Tabor's eyes closed and his breathing leveled out, becoming regular.

"You will have to step out now, Nayib," Julian said gently. "We have to maintain a sterile atmosphere while we do this. We'll have word sent out as we go."

Nayib nodded, blinking against the burning in his eyes and leaned down, kissing Tabor softly. He turned and walked out, stepping into the waiting room where his mother and father sat. Kolopak patted the couch and Nayib walked over, sitting beside his father as he sat with Maria, his arm around her shoulders.

"He'll be all right, son," Maria said softly her son's distress painful to see. "We'll keep thoughts and prayers for him here until they come and tell us he's all right."

Nayib nodded, wiping his eyes of tears and sat back, the comfort of his parents' presence an indescribable thing.

**********Enterprise ...

"Crazy Horse, this is Enterprise."

"Enterprise, this is Chakotay of the Maquis. Are you ready?"

"We are," Jean-Luc replied, glancing at his First Officer.

Tom Riker nodded. "Please name the members of your party."

"Beyvahl and Laora of the Revolutionary Council and myself, representing the military arm of the Maquis."

"Very well," Picard said. "We will send you the coordinates of our meeting place."

"Acknowledged."

Chakotay cut the line and turned, nodding to Beyvahl. They were keeping a channel open to the conference room where everyone who would not be coming over would be able to listen in. That part had been agreed upon in advance. He turned and nodded to Tom, who returned the gesture and watched as the party walked to the lift. He would be in charge of the ship until Chakotay returned. Rising, he signaled his replacement and turned, walking to the command chairs. Sitting, he turned his attention to the screen and the two other ships in their rendezvous.\ He checked the chronometer and noted that Tabor had about three more hours to go on his surgery. He sighed and said a short prayer for him as he settled in for the long haul that this phase of the negotiations would represent.

**********Enterprise Conference Room ...

They materialized in the room, three people surrounded by nearly fifteen. After a moment of silence, Owen Paris stepped forward and extended his hand. Bey took it, the shake firm and strong.

"Won't you sit down?" Owen asked, gesturing to the table where they would sit facing each other across the neutral surface.

They moved to the table and stood, waiting for the others to take their places and they all sat down. Owen opened his portfolio and looked at Bey. "I am taking it that you're the head of this delegation?"

"That's correct. And you head yours?"

"Yes," Owen replied. "We have our previously agreed upon agenda. I am assuming that it's still in force?"

"Yes," Bey replied. He pulled his own out and leaned forward. "Are there any other items that you wish to place on the agenda?"

"Not on the agenda," Owen replied, his pale blue eyes gazing levelly into Bey's. "There are a couple of items I would like to discuss with you in private."

Bey considered his words and nodded. "Later. During a recess?"

"Fine with me," Owen replied, content that his message was received. "Now, shall we get down to business?"

Bey nodded and they leaned forward, the agenda items staring at them like a long and winding road. Chakotay listened, watching as his brother began the tough give and take of settling war. He knew they wouldn't achieve much here, the testing of the waters again after the last time the main objective. He was aware that Bey intended to release a set of hostages at the end of the conference. Which ones they were, he could only hazard a guess. He had no idea who had come with him on Liberty. For two hours they talked and then a break was called, the delegates moving to a refreshment table. Tom Riker, standing in the doorway, watched from a distance. He was a runner, someone who was delegated to get things that might be needed. He did research and found documents, assisting the Star Fleet team in their efforts.

Jean-Luc Picard stood at the table, taking a glass of wine offered by a steward. Chakotay stood beside him, accepting a glass as well. Picard turned to him, raising his glass. "To peace," he said.

"To peace," Chakotay agreed, clicking his glass against Picard's.

They sipped and it was silent. Then Picard cleared his throat.

"I am curious, Captain," he began. "I am wondering when our hostages will be returned."

"The Council has final say in that matter," Chakotay demurred. "I am not privy to that kind of decision."

"Military never are," Picard replied, considering the man before him. "You were Star Fleet once."

"I was," Chakotay said. "It meant a lot to me, more than I meant to the Federation it would appear."

"The war has never ended. I wish it would."

"It has to be an honorable peace."

Picard considered him. "We know about your little escapade on Khitomer."

Chakotay looked at him, his poker face firmly in place. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

Picard hazarded a ghost of a smile. "If you say so."

Owen Paris watched the exchange, considering the man beside him. Bey took his glass and put it down on the table. He turned to Owen and waited. "I would like to talk to you in private," he said, noting the Maquis' nod. Owen gestured with his hand and Bey stepped forward, moving out into the hallway and following Owen into another smaller room. The door closed and Paris turned, fury on his face.

"You broke into the HQ on Khitomer in violation of our ceasefire. You took prisoners and destroyed Federation property. You are responsible for the disappearance of the crew and ship Ulysses. Tell me I'm wrong."

Bey considered his fury. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing."

Owen looked at him, stepping closer. "You think this is a joke?"

Bey felt his own fury rising but he quashed it. "I do recall that we came to the last meeting under a flag of truce, secure in the belief that the Federation had honor. How wrong we were."

Owen shifted, turning away, his fists clenched. "That wasn't my fault."

"No, we know that," Bey agreed. "However, the Federation dealt us a back hand. They lied to us, they fired on us and they hurt us. They broke their word. Our people were injured. One of our people is undergoing brain surgery right now over the wounds he received at a meeting held on neutral ground under a flag of truce. Your outrage rings just a *little bit* false to me, Admiral."

Owen regarded him. "Where's Ulysses? Where's her crew?"

"The crew is safe. They're being held on Crazy Horse. We want to give them back to you before we leave. We also have the Ambassador to the Klingon Empire. We would like you to take her back too."

"And the ship?"

"It took too many hits. We had to dump her into a star," Bey said, noting Paris' rising fury once more. "We had to come here under a deadline. Frankly, it's a good thing, Admiral. We don't have her to use against you now do we?"

Owen swallowed hard. "We'll take them. The President and the other one?"

"They stay with us until we have something that's real. We were prepared to deal last time and we were shot in the ass. We don't want Blanchard to win. We want to help you because we believe that you're the only avenue open that will make a peace happen. You aren't *totally* political. As for the rest, Blanchard tortured my father and brother. He hanged Nayib in front of my father, making him think that Nayib was dead. I have no love for the Federation right now. I have no desire to listen to impassioned outbursts of wounded Federation or Star Fleet pride. I have a lot of responsibility and a lot to do. I prefer to do business with you but I can end this and we can go back to shooting each other if you want. We have the technological edge or you'd have chased us down before this so what's it going to be, Paris? War or peace?"

Owen stared at him, his fury with Blanchard warring with his glee over the man's missteps. The Maquis were viewing him as their pathway to peace and he wouldn't let the Federation down. They *had* to work together. "Fuck Blanchard," he said, sighing deeply. "We try and make this a go together. We, you and me are the only chance peace has."

Bey relaxed slightly. "I'm glad you see the situation as clearly as I do. I think we can do business."

Owen sighed deeply and extended his hand. Bey took it, clasping it tightly. "Promise me one thing," Owen said, gripping Bey's hand tightly.

"What?"

"If you feel things are falling apart or you don't trust what you see, talk to me, call me. Don't throw this away."

Bey considered his words and nodded, gripping Owen's hand tightly. "The same goes for me."

Owen nodded and released Bey's hand. "We better get back. We have a lot of groundwork to lay."

Bey nodded and turned, following Owen back to the conference room. They entered, noting both sides standing opposite each other, talking in low voices. They took their own sides of the table and all sat down, resuming the business of creating the framework for the formal talks that would be happening shortly after this business meeting. It would continue for three more hours before they would break and return to their ships.

**********Liberty, Sick Bay ...

Nayib stood over the bed that held Tabor. The younger man was swathed in bandages, some for his face and neck and some for the wound on his head where they had operated. He was resting comfortably, appropriate medicines running through his system and he looked peaceful for the first time since his injuries.

"How is he?" Nayib asked, glancing anxiously from the healer to Julian Bashir.

"He's come through very well. We did deep tissue repair of his brain, regenerating about ninety-seven percent of the damage. The three percent that was beyond our abilities will account for a small memory loss but the rest will be coming back over time."

Nayib nodded with relief, kissing Tabor's hand. "His face? He hated the scars. Did you have any luck there?"

"We were able to remove most of the scarring however there will be a red line that follows from his left ear down along his jaw. It will end at his collar bone. It will be small and thin, the best we could do given the circumstances, but it will be enormously less visible," Julian said, watching as Nayib blinked back his tears.

"Thank you," Nayib stammered, his fears coalescing into a large throbbing pain in his temple. "Thanks."

Julian smiled and patted Nayib's shoulder, moving with the healer to the doorway. Kolopak turned to his son and kissed his cheek. Maria squeezed his waist, looking up at her big son with relief. "Stay with him, Nayib. Be here when he wakes up," she said, her soft Spanish inflected voice soothing.

He looked at her and nodded.

"We're going to our cabin. We can come back in seconds. Tell us that you'll call us if you need to," his father said, his hand massaging Nayib's shoulder.

"I will, Papa," Nayib said, sniffing as he rubbed his eyes with his hand. "Gracious."

Kolopak patted his son's back and then took his wife's hand, stepping out of the room with her. They stood in the doorway for a moment and then turned, staring at each other with intensity. "Come. I have so much to tell you," Maria said, lacing her fingers tightly with his.

He smiled. "You do," Kolopak agreed sighing with joy.

She smiled and they walked out together, Julian watching them as they went. He sighed, filled with emotion over the impact his associations with former enemies were having on his heart. Turning, he walked back to his station and the duties that filled his day.

**********Later that same day...

They filled the transporter pads, moving in groups of five to be transferred to Enterprise. It went smoothly, Kathryn Janeway standing with Tuvok as he supervised the exchange. When they were all gone, she turned and looked at him. "Are you hungry? I could use some company for dinner."

Tuvok looked at her, flashes of the comradeship and pleasure he felt in her company coming into his mind. "I would be honored to dine with you, Captain."

She felt a sadness sweep through her as she nodded. "Good, Tuvok. I missed you."

Tuvok looked at her and felt the same emotion. "And I missed you, Captain."

They turned and walked out the door, heading for the Mess Hall. The door closed behind them, silent and efficiently as the crew went about their business.

=0=

Book Twenty-Three: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

It was late when they broke company, the cloaked shipsmelting into the night even as Enterprise still futilely scanned for them. All of their efforts during the day long conference had failed, the technology that cloaked them as elusive as ever. Crazy Horse under the command of Chakotay slipped toward the DMZ followed by Liberty, commanded by Tuvok. Kathryn had gone to Liberty with Tuvok and had been given an ambassador's stateroom on the ship. Maria and Kolopak were settled into her old cabin, while Nayib and Bey shared one next door.

Tom walked toward his own, noting that the door to Kolopak and Maria's cabin was open. He paused, glancing inside and noted that a conversation was in progress, one filled with laughter and a dialect that he didn't know. His implanted universal translator kicked in and he could tell that they were having a family catch up. He turned and walked past, moving to his own cabin and entering. Chakotay was with his family and he glad. They needed to catch up and he was content to remain here alone. A noise behind him caught his attention and he turned, noting Chakotay standing in the doorway.

"Hi."

"Hi," Chakotay replied, moving into the room. He walked to Tom, taking him into his arms. He looked better than

Tom could recall and Tom felt relief for him. "Why didn't you come in?"

"You're with your family, Chakotay. I didn't want to intrude."

Chakotay looked at him, his face serious. "You wouldn't be intruding because you belong."

Tom bit his lip and slipped his arms around Chakotay's shoulders. He hugged him and relaxed into the strong embrace that Chakotay returned.

"You need to be with them. You look better now than you have since we found each other again."

"I want you with me, Tom. Come with me."

Tom sighed and nodded, looking at his lover. "All right."

Chakotay smiled and turned, slipping his arm around Tom, his hand resting on the small of Tom's back. They stepped out and entered the other cabin, greeting and being greeted by Chakotay's family. Tom sat down next to Nayib, grinning at him as he did. "You look happy."

"Tabor came through it well. He will probably be able to remember most of what he lost and his scarring will be minimal."

Tom sighed with relief. "That's wonderful."

"It is," Nayib replied, choking up. "This whole two months has been hell."

"It has," Chakotay said, sitting down next to Tom. "Let's talk about important things like the girls and the grand kids. I've never seen them."

"They're beautiful," Maria said. She was sitting with

Kolopak on a small couch, her arm slipped through his, her fingers entwined with his. "You will love them so."

"I know I will," Chakotay agreed. "I haven't seen them in ten years."

"Eleven," Bey corrected.

It fell silent for a moment.

"This is so wrong," Maria said, her face crumpling. "Eleven years without all of you around me. Eleven years without your father. It's not right." She began to weep and Kolopak pulled her to him, his own eyes burning with tears.

"We'll be together again," Bey said quietly. "This can't last forever."

Tom tightened his grip on Chakotay's hand, leaning closer to his lover. Chakotay squeezed back, a huge slow sigh of misery slipping from him. Tom glanced at Chakotay and the older man nodded, rising. "Maybe we better go," he said.

"No, please, son," Maria said, sitting up as she rubbed her eyes. "I'll be all right."

"Tomorrow, Mama," Bey said, rising too. "Tomorrow you'll be all right. You and Papa need to be alone."

They all rose and she hugged them one and all. Tom hugged her, her tiny body enveloped in his own. He hugged Kolopak and the group of them stepped out, the door closing behind them. They stood silently in the corridor and then Chakotay turned to his brothers.

"Poker?"

Bey grinned and Nayib groaned. "You really like to lose that much?" Bey asked, smiling at his youngest brother with amusement.

"Who says I'll lose?" Chakotay replied, his voice filled with wounded vanity.

"History?" Nayib replied, smirking.

"Shit," Chakotay said, shaking his head. "My place. Now."

They all turned and entered, moving furniture until the table was set for poker. They all sat down and Tom dealt, passing cards to each man. It was silent for a moment as they all arranged their hands. They called out for replacements and put them into order, putting out chips for bets. "You think we have a shot here, Bey?" Nayib asked, himself not privy to the proceedings.

"What? My hand or the negotiations?" Bey asked, grinning.

"Don't test me, brother," Nayib asked, mock angry. "You *know* I'm going to kick your ass at poker."

Bey snorted. "In your dreams."

Tom grinned. "Pony up or shut up."

"Final bets?" Bey called looking around the table.

Chakotay nodded and put down a pair of jacks. "Read 'em and weep."

"Sure," Bey said, putting down three aces.

Chakotay joined the other three groaning at the sight and Bey cleared the booty with glee. "When you play with the masters you gotta expect to get hurt."

"Shit," Chakotay said, laughing. "When you see a master, *Dad*, let me know."

Bey chuckled and looked at Tom. "Deal the cards, blondie."

Tom snorted and dealt and for the next three hours they played until their inner equilibrium was restored. By the time they all trooped out, Tom had finished his shower.

Chakotay stepped in and finished his routine, moving wearily to the bed. Tom held up the sheet and he slipped in, settling alongside the naked form of his lover. Tom slipped his arms around Chakotay and they kissed each other slowly and languidly.

"That was fun. I love your family," Tom said, sighing.

"They're good people, Tom," Chakotay agreed, kissing Tom again. He turned the younger man around, spooning up behind him, his hand slipping down to touch Tom's genitals.

"Maybe I should get you a set made for you to keep on your desk," Tom said, sighing with pleasure as he chuckled. "That feels good."

"Good," Chakotay said, smirking. "I know a man back home who's an artist. He makes casts in bronze of dicks if you ask him to. I want one of you when we finally go home."

Tom snorted. "You want my dick to sit on the table?"

"Sure," Chakotay said, nuzzling Tom's neck. "I want everyone who comes to our house to see what's mine."

Tom snorted and chuckled. "So, you have us living on Dorvan V in a house with a bronze of my genitals on the dining room table."

"Living room table," Chakotay corrected. "That certainly would be a conversation starter for those just 'so-so' dinner parties."

Chakotay chuckled and pulled Tom closer, extending his reach. Tom turned and moved to his back, spreading his legs. He closed his eyes, the sensations of pleasure filling his brain as Chakotay wandered here and there, taking his leisure. "You have incredible balls, Paris."

Tom snorted, his chuckle breaking the erotic stillness of the air. "I do, don't I," Tom agreed, turning more to face Chakotay.

He sighed. "I suppose the sculpture will showcase my nuts."

"Of course," Chakotay agreed, a huge grin on his face. "All the good stuff."

Tom lay quietly, absorbing the sensations that Chakotay's skillful fingers coaxed out of him. "How many dicks do you have hidden in a closet?"

Chakotay paused, peering into Tom's face. "What?"

"You told me you had billions of blonds. How many of them do you have immortalized in bronze?"

Chakotay snorted. "Enough to build a small shuttle."

Tom turned his head and stared at Chakotay, surprised. "What?"

"I'm lying. I don't have anyone yet. I want you. You will be the first."

Tom grinned slowly, opening his mouth for Chakotay's tongue. It wandered around his mouth, pushing and sliding on his and then it disappeared, a sigh signaling its passing. Tom opened his eyes, gazing into Chakotay's ear as the older man sucked on the skin of his neck. "You really want this sculpture?"

"You better believe it," Chakotay said, pausing. He grinned. "I really do."

"Why wait for Dorvan V?" Tom said, snickering at the grin on Chakotay's face that continued to grow.

"You're never dull, Paris," Chakotay said, moving to suck on Tom's neck again.

"You're the one with the artistic streak," Tom replied, pushing Chakotay's wandering hand farther into his crotch.

"I am artistic," Chakotay said, a smug grin on his face. "Ask any blond in my home town."

"You prick," Tom said, chuckling. "Maybe I should tell you about my legions of men."

"Don't," Chakotay said, sighing against Tom's neck. "I'm pretending to be the first man that ever had you. Don't intrude reality into my fantasies."

Tom snorted and turned, gazing with loving amusement into Chakotay's face. "What makes you think you weren't the first man I've ever made love to?"

Chakotay looked at him, his face filled with a passion that stilled Tom. He looked into Chakotay's dark eyes and felt the fire that animated him. It was a warmth he had never known before and he reached up, touching Chakotay's face with his fingers.

"Don't tell me if there were others," Chakotay whispered. "Don't tell me that you ever loved another man. Don't tell me that you ever did something like this with anyone but me. I don't think I could stand the idea of it, that someone else held you like this and touched you like I do."

Tom turned and lined himself up alongside of Chakotay. He slipped his leg over Chakotay's and pressed his lips against the older man's. Strong arms pulled him against a hard body, one anxious to touch him and Tom felt the passion of his partner sweep him away. They moved and touched, kissing and stroking each other as the fires consumed them both. Tom gave himself over, the older man taking him away and when they lay together spent, it was as if they had never been apart. Tom turned his head, his cheek touching Chakotay's. "I love you. There isn't anyone else. There never was."

Chakotay sighed. "I love you too. I don't know what I was before you became mine. I was so lonely, Tom. I was so lonely."

"It's all right," Tom whispered, his arms embracing the warm damp body of his lover. "We all were. We were so lost out there. Now we're together and I know we're on the right track for peace, Chakotay. When this is over, show me Dorvan V. I want to see every place you ever were."

Chakotay sighed. "I will," he replied softly.

The room was silent as they lay together, holding each other. The day was dying and they were together. Whatever tomorrow would bring would be bearable because they were together.

**********Nearing home ...

It was late afternoon two days later when they reached the minefield. Passing through it, they were met with ships small and large. They signaled with their running lights and happy chatter over ship's channels. Everyone knew that Nayib and Kolopak were coming home. They pulled into port and fell into parking orbit, the crew hurrying to shut down the ship and go to the celebrations that were happening planet side.

"Are you ready to go?" Bey asked, standing in the doorway of his parent's cabin. His mother stepped from the bedroom, her hair in a long braid. "We're ready," she said, a huge smile on her face.

Kolopak followed her, carrying a small bag and they joined their son in the hallway. Nayib was going to meet them in the transporter room after a side trip to the Sick Bay.

Chakotay and Tom were going to meet them too, turning the ship over to the port crew. They walked to the lift and were seconds later walking into the transporter room, closely followed by Tom and Chakotay. Maria hugged her son and they turned, stepping onto the platform just as Nayib and Tabor entered.

"Tabor," Tom said turning and smiling at the smaller man.

He was pale as a ghost and he had a bandage along the side of his face and one on the side of his head. He was enveloped in Nayib leaning on him for support. He smiled and nodded. "Hi."

"Nayib, don't you think he should stay in Sick Bay?" Maria asked, worry on her face.

"I want to be with him. I don't want to stay on board ship. I want to go with you, Nayib." There was an edge of desperation in his voice as he stood with Nayib. Maria stepped down and walked to him, slipping her arm through his. "You can come with us, dear," she said slowly helping him walk to the platform. She turned. "See you down below."

Chakotay nodded to the transporter chief and he moved his hands, the party on deck disappearing. They joined them and found themselves in the middle of a cheering mob. Boarding open transports, they drove slowly, the cheering people reaching out to touch them. They were out in force, thousands and thousands of people celebrating and they inched their way toward the Maquis headquarters that would become Kolopak and Maria's new home. They cried and reached for him, the man they had revered, the man who had become a legend over the years of war and struggle. They all wanted to see him, to be near to him and as he passed, he waved and touched the outstretched hands. Confetti fell from the rooftops, landing like colorful snow flakes and Tom gazed up, his vision blurred by the falling paper.

It took what seemed like hours and they pulled up, a reception waiting for them as they stepped from the cars. A speaker was playing music and then it stopped, a member of the Revolutionary Council stepping forward with a microphone in her hand. She greeted Kolopak with a hug, tears in her eyes for the return of a long lost friend. "You must say something," she said, pressing the microphone into his hand. He stood for a moment and then turned, noting that his family was gathering around him. Tuvok and Kathryn, Harry and Seven and Neelix, they were all there, the alpha crew from Liberty and Crazy Horse both. They gathered around him as he faced the huge swelling crowd that gathered before the steps of the headquarters building. Then it began to get quiet until you could have heard a pin drop.

They stared at him, drinking him in, the man who had been the guiding light of their resistance. He stood there surrounded by his family, the men who had stepped in and led them in their darkest hours. It was very quiet when Kolopak finally spoke. "If someone had told me that we had survived this long, I would have been hard pressed to believe them. But we have, thriving against great odds, pressing our case for freedom. In all the years of exile I have prayed for you. I have prayed that someday we would have peace again, peace with honor. We're on the edge of that fulfillment. We are on the edge of being able to lay down our arms and return to our lives. That is what I prayed for all those long years in prison. That is what I hope for now. That is what we will be working for, for the future of our children, for the future of our home worlds." He paused. Swallowing hard, he looked at the crowd from one side to the other. "It's good to be here. It's good to be home. Thank you."

The roar that greeted his wave was deafening.

=0=


	24. Chapter 24

=0=

Book Twenty-Four: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

Maquis HQ, later that evening ...

Harry Kim and Rick Batehart stood by a table, drinks in hand as the celebration continued unabated. They had mingled, catching up with others and it had been a wonderful moment in time. Julian Bashir and Miles O'Brien had joined them, creating a little island of Star Fleet in the midst of a sea of Maquis but at that moment they didn't feel the difference. They all felt part of the whole.

Nearby, talking intently to several Bajorans, Kira Nerys stood. Her intensity was evident as was her conflict. She had thrown in her lot with the enemy, becoming an invaluable member of the Liberty's command crew. Her expertise as a security officer and her placement at Tactical had been a boon for Tuvok's efficiency and he spoke highly of her capabilities. Yet there was that certain indefinable something that many of the 'Fleet people still felt, the conflict of loyalties and the aghast realization that the Federation they loved had turned on them.

Harry sipped his drink, his mind only partly on the conversation around him as he searched the crowd for Tom and B'Elanna. He spied Tom and stepped away, moving to stand beside him. "Harry!" Tom cried, delightedly. He hugged the younger man, a bemused backward glance from Chakotay accompanying the gesture. "Here. I want you to meet some people."

Tom turned and introduced Harry to Chakotay's family. They stood for a moment exchanging pleasantries and then Tom turned, taking Harry by the arm. They stepped aside and Tom grinned. "I haven't seen you in days."

"I know," Harry said, grinning himself. "I've been busy."

"So have I, Harry," Tom replied. "Maybe we can have dinner and shoot some pool."

"I'd like that," Harry replied honestly. "How's it going with Chakotay?"

Tom cocked his head, a slight grin on his face. "I'm in love, Harry."

Harry considered this admission and nodded. "I'm glad for you, Tom."

"What else is on your mind, Harry?" Tom asked his grin widening.

"I was just wondering how it was with B'Elanna?"

Tom sighed, looking around the crowded room for his wife. He shook his head. "She stopped talking to me a long time ago. However, people have told me that she's close to a number of Maquis. Chakotay talks to her. She's not alone."

"I can't talk to her either. It's like that whole side of her is cut off."

"I know," Tom said, sighing. "I can hardly believe it. A year ago I was married to her and happy. Now ..." Tom shook his head. "I'm living with a man and I'm happier than I've ever been in my life."

"I don't know what I thought would happen when we came back, Tom. I thought maybe someone would be glad. I know my parents would be," Harry replied, his voice painfully wistful.

"We're close, Harry," Tom said, anxious to ease Harry's sorrow.

"We're that close to ending this mess. You'll be home with them before you know it."

"I hope so. Sometimes I feel like I've been running down this road forever. I wonder what will become of all of us if there is a peace."

"I don't know," Tom replied honestly. "That's up to bigger people than us. We just do or die, remember?"

Harry grinned. "Who can forget?"

"So who are you seeing? Who's the lucky lady, Harry?" Tom said, changing tack.

Harry grinned. "There's a Maquis that works in Engineering that's a really nice girl, Tom. Her name is Gina."

"She sounds wonderful," Tom replied, relieved that Harry was with someone. "When do I get to meet her?"

"Soon," Harry said, grinning as he watched Tom look around. "She's not here. She had some things to finish up. I'm meeting her at her apartment."

"Oh," Tom replied, leering at his best friend. He felt relieved and pleased, her concerns for Harry lessening.

"You better get back to Chakotay," Harry said, noting the glances that Chakotay gave them around the spirited conversation that he was involved.

"Dinner and pool," Tom replied, noting with bemusement the same thing. "On Voyager. Sandrine's."

"How about tomorrow? 1700?"

"Done deal," Tom said, squeezing Harry's arm. He turned and walked back, Chakotay's arm slipping around him as he pulled the younger man closer to his side.

Harry grinned and turned walking back to his group, the conversation in full buzz over a number of points including the accuracy of their raid over the refining plants earlier.

**********The next day ...

Morning had come with its bright blue skies and changed

circumstances. Chakotay was different. He was a changed man as well. Gone from his eyes was the haunted look that had been such a part of him whenever his father was mentioned. Gone was the almost grim stoicism from the burden he had shouldered. The Vedek had freed him from his former life. That had been a fortuitous moment in their return. Without it happening what could have been the outcome? Bad things most likely.

Tom mused on it as he pulled on his boots. Standing, he stared at the rumpled bed, the one they had taken their pleasure in the night before and sighed. Bending, he gave in to the programming of his childhood and straightened it, perfect corners and smooth covers as exacting as if his father was there to oversee. He turned and followed his nose, walking to the table where Chakotay sat, half dressed and relaxed. He leaned down and kissed him, then programmed toast and coffee. Turning, he sat, eating half of one slice before he ventured a word. "What's on the agenda today?" he asked, blowing on his coffee.

"Work," Chakotay replied.

Tom sighed. "Why do I ask?"

Chakotay smiled. "Duty before pleasure my tall thin one."

Tom grinned. "Pleasure before duty, my well-hung one. We haven't even had a honeymoon for this pseudo-marriage of ours."

"There's the little matter of your divorce," Chakotay interjected dryly, arching one eyebrow at Paris.

Tom sighed. "*That* little thing."

"It's not so little, Tom. It's painful and out there. What do you want to do?"

"Get divorced so I can live in sin with you without compounding interest in hell for the doing of it."

"Hell ... we've already been there. I want something done about what stands between us."

"What then, Chakotay? Are you going to make an honest man out of me?"

"When this is over."

Tom looked at his lover, at the expression on his face. He had become adept at reading Chakotay, having seen him in many different states of emotional upheaval and he recognized the expression on his face now. It was one of die hard, rock-ribbed determination. "So I divorce. What do we do? Wait a decent interval? Have my father give me away in a white dress?"

"Don't be silly, Tom," Chakotay said, rising and walking up to him. He bent down and kissed Tom's lips, lingering on them for a moment. "You could never wear a white dress. You're not a virgin anymore."

"Technicalities," Tom countered, a huge smile on his face. "I want to see the look on everyone's face when we open the presents and you pull out a bronze cast of my dick."

"All the women will swoon in envy," Chakotay countered with a smug look on his face, "and all the men will get out measuring tapes to see how much bigger you are than them."

"Thanks, Chakotay," Tom said, leaning back with a huge smile on his face.

"Of course, I'm biggest."

"Of course," Tom said snorting. "Bigger dick, bigger balls, bigger ego."

Chakotay sighed in contentment, relaxing in his chair, his lover sitting across from him. "Would you have it any other way?"

"No," Tom replied grinning. "I just want to be alone with you for more than five minutes. I want to be alone with you and talk and fuck and generally fool around."

"I'll see what I can do," Chakotay said, his foot slipping over Tom's foot as he moved it under the table. "I want to be alone with you too."

Tom nodded and looked down, noting Chakotay's foot snaking up his shin, moving up his pants leg toward his knee. "You playing footsies with me, Chakotay?"

"Yeah," Chakotay said, his eyes half shut in desire.

"Wanna make something out of it?"

"Not if you have to go right away," Tom replied a faux pout forming on his lips.

"I could kiss you for a week when you pout like that."

"I'll remember that," Tom replied, smiling. "What now?"

"We have to go to the HQ. That is, *I* have to. Why don't you go and mess around. I'll meet you for lunch."

"Where?" Tom asked, rising.

"At that cafe by the waterfront."

Tom nodded, slipping his foot up Chakotay's shin. "What comes next?"

"We go to the rendezvous. We have one more meeting and then formal talks happen."

"Bey will lead them?"

Chakotay nodded. "He's the lead man. We're only going to send a small delegation."

"On what? Are we going to take one of our cloaked vessels when we go?"

Chakotay considered his words. "Could be. I'm not sure. That's part of what we're going to sort out today."

Tom nodded, rising. "I'm going too." He replicated orange juice in a glass.

"Of course," Chakotay agreed. "You're flying no matter what we go on."

Tom nodded and turned, leaning down and kissing Chakotay's neck. He sat again, sipping his juice. Considering the next few days, he leaned forward. "Who do I talk to about filing divorce?"

Chakotay shrugged. "I don't know. Why don't you ask Bey's secretary. He's a lawyer. He would know."

Tom nodded. "I will."

Chakotay rose and took his dishes to the recycler. He stuffed them in and turned, moving across the room to the bedroom. Entering the bathroom, he walked to the sink and washed his face. Toweling off, he turned and smiled, noting Tom's lanky form leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed and a smile on his face. "Yes?"

Tom smirked. "Just watching."

"Really."

Tom nodded, noting the flex of muscle in Chakotay's arms. He loved to watch him, noting the power and economy of movement in the older man's body. He moved closer, standing behind him, the broad expanse of Chakotay's back before him. He placed his hands on the warm skin, savoring the touch of it. "You're very dark skinned when I put my hands on your back. I never notice it until I'm naked with you."

"Yeah?" Chakotay asked, his eyes noting Tom's expression in the mirror in front of him.

"It turns me on."

Chakotay grinned. "It does, does it?"

"Sure," Tom said, rubbing his hands up and down the curve of Chakotay's back. "You're pretty sexy for an old guy."

Chakotay snorted and turned, slipping his arms around Tom's waist. He grinned as they stood together, holding each other in the quiet room. "Old guy?"

"Well, older guy," Tom corrected, his eyes sparkling. "You *are* older than me."

"By only a bit."

"How much older *are* you than me?" Tom asked suddenly interested.

Chakotay considered his question and smiled. "At least a couple of centuries."

Tom grinned, leaning in and kissing him softly on his lips. "Good. Nothing like an older man my sisters used to say."

Chakotay snorted and pulled him close, Tom's lanky form comforting against his bare chest. "Don't get dressed in the morning. I like this. Alot."

Chakotay grinned. "I have to get going."

"Eventually," Tom replied, his voice muffled by Chakotay's neck.

They stood quietly a moment and then Chakotay reluctantly slacked his embrace. "I have to go," he sighed, noting the mutual reluctance in his partner's eyes.

"Better hop to it then," Tom said ruefully. He turned and walked into the bedroom, pulling from the closet a shirt and vest to complete Chakotay's wardrobe. He watched as his lover dressed, the homeliness of the moment fulfilling to him in a way he didn't think he could articulate.

Turning, Chakotay extended his hand and Tom rose entwining his fingers tightly. They walked to the door and stepped out, moving down the corridor to the transporter room. In seconds they were on the planet kissing goodbye as Chakotay continued on toward the HQ. Tom watched him go and sighed, breathing a lungful of the warm spring air. It was beautiful and the day was pulsating with people going about their business with renewed vigor.

The return of Kolopak and Bey had been of inestimable value and everyone seemed buoyed as if something indelible had transpired. It seemed at long last that something could come about that would end the business of killing and being killed. It was in the air.

With a grin and a sigh, Tom Paris turned and walked down the boulevard toward the center of the city that was his home.

**********Far away ...

Jake Sisko stood by the window that had been his favorite viewport as a child. Beyond, the wormhole would emerge, discharging ships and people who were going about their business as if things were truly normal and not a sham. His conversations, first with Miriam Paris and then with his father had rocked the complacency with which he had conducted his life previously. The news that was fed from the 'zone of conflict' had been falsified or suppressed. The situation out here was bigger and more terrifying than anyone had been told.

The Maquis weren't some rag-tag group of terrorists that were leeching off the body of the Federation, one-step away from the grave. They were well supplied often by neutral political entities that had no love for the Federation, well trained and uber motivated. They were a force to reckon with and if half of what his father had told him was true more than holding their own out here.

Cloaked ships.

The Maquis had cloaked ship. They were using them to wield a big stick out here and the 'conference' that the Federation President was involved with that hinted at ending the debacle that they found themselves in was a sham. The Federation President and his party were prisoners of the Maquis. It was all a subterfuge designed to hide the fact that the enemy, this enemy that was supposed to be nothing more than hoodlums had taken him hostage. Now they were in a big vast world of hurt, negotiations being hit and miss, the likelihood of their success an indeterminate thing. The government group led by the Vice President had fallen out with the Star Fleet delegation led by the formidable Owen Paris.

Right now, no one knew where it all stood. They just knew that they were filled with fear out here fighting an invisible enemy and mostly losing. He considered the damage here at the station and at the big comm relay nearby. It had been shattered, a swirling cloud of debris the only indication that anything had been there. The station here was under repair, the once bustling docks devoid of commerce as they went on a war footing.

Jake sighed. War. It never ended. He was sick of it. He loathed it. He knew it had to be ended. He knew it was up to him to get the story out, the *true* story. Too many people depended upon him now. Miriam Paris, the lost of the Defiant, Deep Space 9, his father, his own soul ... it was up to him. It all had to be told.

Jake turned and walked away mulling over the process of transmitting data on a system that was devised to prevent it. He wondered as well how it would be possible to get a ride into Maquis territory. He had to see for himself what others could only tell him. He had to find his friends.

=0=

Book Twenty-Four: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

It was dark when he awoke, dozing as he was in a chair beside Tabor's bed, the light from the street lamp beyond streaming into the room. They had not stayed long at the gathering, slipping away for their apartment where he could ensure Tabor's rest. The younger man protested but had offered no resistance when they left riding silently to their apartment, his head resting on Nayib's broad shoulder.

He had been exhausted letting the older man take care of him and when he slipped into the sheets of their bed, he had fallen asleep immediately. Nayib had sat beside him holding Tabor's hand as he watched him sleep. Then he kissed it and slipped it under the covers. Rising, he walked to the living room and programmed a meal. Taking it to the table, he sat and began to eat silently. It had been about two and a half days since Tabor's surgery and the bandages would come off tomorrow. The holodoc would beam in from Voyager and take care of them. He wondered what it would mean to Tabor to have his face back, at least as much of it as skilled hands could salvage.

Nayib felt the guilt rise up, the ineffable anguish that filled him when futility struck. He couldn't undo what had been done. He was tormented by the images of Tabor hurt and confused, frightened from his injuries when they were in Federation custody. It made him wince and he shoved them away compartmentalizing them into a bin of hurts and sorrows that war had required him to construct in his mind.

Nayib sighed and finished his food, cleaning up and moving to the bedroom, drawn by his worry and his need for the company of the silent man on his bed. He stared at Tabor, at the quiet handsome face that had smiled for him alone. He sat and brushed back thick black hair, his fingers lingering on the nose ridges that signaled Tabor's heritage. Bajorans felt pleasure when you touched them there, sexual and personal pleasure depending on how much they were stroked.

It had surprised him when he had inadvertently found that out. The silly grin that crossed Tabor's face had been a signal that he was doing things right and he had leaned down kissing his way along Tabor's cheek until he brushed the ridges with his lips. The sigh that escaped Tabor's lips had drawn his gaze and he watched the expression that passed over Tabor's features with amazement.

Erogenous zones. They were erogenous zones. It had been amusing to disarm the younger man when no one was looking by stroking his face, a finger brushing the ridges that neatly lined his nose. It would be enough to bring stillness to Tabor, a smile on his face and a look of bemusement.

They were good companions the two of them and as he sat he found himself lonely. It had been too long since they had sat and talked together. They did that a lot, talking for hours about everything and nothing. They were compatible, genuinely drawn together. He knew that from the first time he had laid eyes on the younger man. It had been hard watching Tabor with Chakotay but he had been scrupulous in his dealings with that impossible situation. He could never come between them. It had been almost unbelievable when Chakotay backed away, allowing their mutual attraction room to grow. He would always be beholding to Chakotay for that.

Something big and warm was born in Nayib when he first met the Bajoran and it had filled alot of empty places. He felt deeply protective of the slender alien, something that had driven Maris away from him. Oddly enough the Klingon hybrid needed everything *but* the sense of being possessed. Tabor reveled in it, the soothing feeling of being with someone more than welcomed after a lifetime of uncertainty.

He sat beside Tabor wishing he were awake but relieved that he could rest. He wanted to touch him, to lie down with him and bury all his fears in the soft slim body of his lover. It had been a harrowing month and now they were together again. He would ensure that this would remain so. Turning, he rose and walked to a chair pulling it beside the bed. Settling in, he dozed lightly listening as he did for the slightest sound that Tabor might make as he slept.

**********Later ...

Jean-Luc Picard walked to his cabin, the day's activities winding down. They were to take Admiral Paris and Company to the next rendezvous, serving as the platform for talks once more. He considered this last private meeting, the one where the conditions for formal talks would be argued. It was one more small step forward toward peace. He sincerely hoped it would be.

Entering his cabin, he walked to his bedroom moving to go through his evening ritual. It was quiet here, no pressing duties and no need to decide this and that thing. His room was his refuge and he was always glad to come home. This business with the Maquis was intriguing. He had met many of them in the past, both sides of the conflict having thrust themselves into his lap over and over and he was filled as well with a certain amount of guilt over his dealings with the people on Dorvan V. He had met the grandfather of the man he was now chasing, the grandfather of Chakotay.

The old man had told him of their love for their land, of the journey they had made to find a place where they could flourish and retain their unique and ancient culture. He had made a deal with the devil on that one, hoping that the Cardassians would honor their agreement to leave the people alone. They had.

For a while.

The Maquis that came out of that culture were tenacious, hardheaded and tough. Chakotay himself was a man to reckon with not only because of his Star Fleet background but because of his experience in the Delta Quadrant. They had been tested. They had acquired technology that had eluded Federation attempts to understand it. They were formidable.

He walked to the day room, pausing to pick up his nightly tea and scone. Turning, he walked to his desk and sat staring at the flickering screen on his computer. For a moment, he didn't move and then he reached over and turned it off. Turning, he picked up a book of poems and rose taking his tea with him. Walking to the couch, he sat down and sighed setting his cup on the table next to him. Tomorrow, the problems of the world. Now, poetry. With that, he opened the book and began to read.

**********Voyager ...

Chakotay entered his cabin noting that the bathroom light was on. He put down his load of padds and turned walking to the bedroom. Moving to the bathroom door, he paused, a grin on his face. "Hi."

"Hi yourself."

"Care to join me?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Chakotay moved to the toilet and sat down, pulling off his boots wearily.

"You look tired."

"I feel tired."

"Good," Tom said, sipping his beer. "Grab a beer and join me."

"I will."

"Bring some pie too."

"Any particular kind?" Chakotay asked with a grin as he pulled his shirt off over his head.

"Apple would be nice. I programmed my grandmother's version. She called it 'better than sex pie'."

Chakotay paused and grinned. "Sounds good. I'll get two."

He rose and finished stripping, dropping his clothes into the 'fresher. Leaving the room, he walked to the replicator and programmed pie, tea and implements. Laden, he turned and walked back in, bending to allow Tom to take the plates.

"Climb in," Tom said, moving slightly backward. "The water is fine."

Chakotay climbed into the tub and sat back, smiling at Tom who sat at the other end. Tom reached over and handed Chakotay a plate and cup and then took his own. "Taste it. You'll love it."

Chakotay did and sat back, closing his eyes over the wonderful taste of cinnamon and spice. "This is good."

"Yeah. Grandpa loved it."

"I can see why."

"What did you decide today, Chakotay?"

"Well, we're going to the next meeting with both ships, Crazy Horse uncloaked and Liberty cloaked. I will be part of the negotiations team as will Bey and Nayib. Papa will be on board Crazy Horse and listen in. Liberty will be on recon, making sure everything is on the up and up."

"Good," Tom said, sipping his beer. "Your mom coming too?"

"Yes," Chakotay said. "She and Papa aren't going to be apart again. I have it on good authority." He grinned at the memory of his mother's adamant assertion about coming along.

"Good," Tom said, finishing his pie. He put the plate down and turned, leaning back again. He closed his eyes, his face relaxing.

Chakotay looked at Tom, his handsome face relaxed and his hair darkly plastered against his head. Droplets of water glistened in the fur of his chest and Chakotay stifled an impulse to lick them off. Sighing, he finished his own pie putting the plate on the floor as well. Leaning back, laying his arms on the sides

of the tub, he sighed deeply.

"Chakotay?"

"What?"

"Have you ever had sex in the water?"

Chakotay smiled. "Yes."

"I won't ask you who with."

"It wasn't Janeway."

Tom opened one eye and grinned. "That really bothers you doesn't it."

"Janeway?" Chakotay asked nonchalantly. "Probably."

"If you and her had hit it off you wouldn't have lasted."

"Really," Chakotay replied dryly. "Why?"

"Well, you're more gay than het. You're more into men than women. You're mine and not hers. You're too much man's man for a woman. You need a man to take care of your peculiar needs."

"My peculiar needs?"

"Well, anal isn't exactly the sort of thing a woman hopes to see happen on even the third date," Tom reposted, a huge grin on his face.

"Some women like it."

"Name one."

Chakotay was silent for a moment and then grinned. "I can't right now but give me time."

"Right," Tom replied, a smug grin on his face. "So if you had of been together, I think you would have divorced."

"Probably," Chakotay agreed amiably. "Have you ever had sex in weightlessness?"

Tom opened his eyes, regarding his lover for a moment. "No. You?"

"Yeah," Chakotay replied, chuckling. "It's sort of technically challenging."

"I can imagine. You know, I always wondered why I didn't. I can't remember the last time I was weightless without a survival suit on."

"It's an experience everyone should try," Chakotay replied, sighing with relaxation. "This feels so good."

"I know. I love soaking."

"I love skinny dipping."

"You do?" Tom asked, surprised. "Doesn't that interfere with your magnificent dignity or something?"

"Not really. I didn't wear clothes much until I was about four. I got too dirty." Chakotay grinned. "Then there was the locker room and other places..."

"Bath houses?" Tom ventured moving his foot a little.

"I never did that route. I wanted to know who I was fucking a little better than that."

"Ah, a man of priorities," Tom ventured leaning forward. "So, what do you know about me?"

Chakotay reached over and pulled him forward, moving forward himself until Tom was sitting on his lap, their chests touching.

"I know you're a good man, an honorable one. I know that you are brave and intelligent. I know that you're a man who keeps his word. I know that you're sexy, handsome, unpredictable, kind hearted and generous. I also know that you love me. That means a lot, Tom."

Tom slipped his arms around Chakotay's shoulders, moving closer in his lap. He sighed, a soft smile on his face. "You say the sweetest things."

"I do don't I."

Tom grinned and leaned in, kissing Chakotay softly. He kissed him again, the sensation of Chakotay's hands rubbing his back relaxing. "You're pretty unique yourself," Tom whispered, his lips close to Chakotay's.

"You think so?"

"Yeah," Tom replied, nuzzling Chakotay's chin. "You're the only person that makes me feel safe."

Chakotay leaned back, staring into Tom's blue eyes. He rested his hands on Tom's legs, the muscles firm and smooth. "I'm glad," Chakotay replied. "You know I would never hurt you, Tom. I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know that," Tom replied. "That's the part that's so fascinating. I know that's for real."

Chakotay nodded and pulled him back against his body, the long legs of his lover curling around him. Tom's warm body, his soft lips and his blue eyes were comforting, close to him that they were and he sighed."You're beautiful. That's always been true."

Tom grinned. "Yeah, well, doesn't add up to much in the long run. I still ended up in prison."

"You never talk about that."

"No," Tom replied, resting his forehead on Chakotay's. "It wasn't something I want to remember much."

"I couldn't let you go back to the Federation. Even if you wanted to go I wasn't prepared to let you," Chakotay replied, nuzzling Tom's neck.

"You weren't?"

"No," Chakotay replied. "Prison is the last place I can see you, even when I was mad at you."

"You were too, often," Tom replied with a chuckle.

"More often than you could imagine," Chakotay said a smile on his face. "Of course, magnanimous person that I am I forgave you constantly."

"Magnanimous, that's you," Tom agreed moving slightly in Chakotay's lap.

"That feels good. Do it again."

Tom moved again, the feel of Chakotay's hands gripping his butt almost painful. They were both hard and as he moved the water sloshed slightly, a counterpoint to the noise that was rising softly from Chakotay's throat. "Feel good?" Tom asked, moving in a rhythm in the fastness of the water and Chakotay's grip.

"Feels great," Chakotay croaked as he ground Tom against his groin. "More, Tom. More."

Tom moved faster, the tension in his own body building more. He closed his eyes and laid back his head, groaning softly as he moved. He gasped, the sensation of pain jagging through him as Chakotay bit the soft skin of his neck. It stung him and he gripped Chakotay's arms, arching against his lover in the cramped space of the tub.

"More," Chakotay whispered, pulling Tom against him his grip on Tom's ass tight. "More, baby."

Tom gasped, his breath coming in bursts and he moved faster, the water lapping at his elbows as he ground against his lover. The lights flashed and he felt himself arch, the agony of his orgasm spilling out between them. Chakotay watched him through the red film coloring his own vision and then he pulled Tom against him as the lava erupted in his veins. He roared and arched, pulling Tom into his arms as he did. Shaking for a moment, he relaxed, pulling his lover with him.

For a moment, it was silent.

"Chakotay?"

"What?"

"You're killing me."

Chakotay loosened his grip and Tom sat back, staring at the sweat sheened face of his lover. "You look good."

"So do you," Chakotay agreed his hands roaming Tom's chest.

"We must do this more often."

"I agree," Chakotay said a smirk crossing his face.

"Next time with bubbles."

"Done deal, *macho* man."

=0=

Book Twenty-Four: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

"You ready?"

"Yeah." Nayib stared at Tabor who sat on the bed, his head hanging slightly. Behind him, standing near the door, the holodoc waited. Nayib turned to him, nodding.

"Well, let's see how we're doing shall we?" the doctor offered, his voice deliberately cheery as he walked over and sat down next to the silent Bajoran.

Nayib swallowed hard and went into the bathroom returning with a damp cloth and a soft towel. He watched as the doctor peeled off the bandages revealing reddened skin underneath. Tabor sat like a statue, his eyes closed as the doctor gently removed his wraps.

"Well there. Done with this," the doc said putting the bandages into a small trash receptacle on the floor. He turned and gently touched Tabor's face and neck picking up a tricorder and holding it up. For a moment, there was only silence and then the doctor finished, shutting off the tricorder and glancing up at Nayib. He rose and turned, staring down at Tabor. "I think we have a wonderful healing here. The skin is slightly red from the bandages but that should fade in a few moments. This is a wonderful bit of surgery if I say so myself."

Tabor looked up, his dark anxious eyes moving from the EMH to Nayib and back. The doc smiled. "You need to look in the mirror," he said gently.

Turning, he nodded to Nayib. "You might help him. You may call me again if you need me."

Nayib nodded his face solemn. "Thank you, Doctor, for everything."

The EMH nodded a smile on his face. "I'll be running along for now." With that, he discreetly disappeared back to Voyager.

Nayib looked at Tabor and held out his hand pulling the Bajoran to his feet. They stood silently together and then Tabor turned walking to the bathroom, Nayib following silently behind. He stepped to the mirror and stared, his eyes following a faint line of red that began at the corner of his eye and followed the edge of his hairline. It broadened slightly and followed the curve of his jaw and neck until it ended just out of sight of his collar. Tabor stared at it tentatively touching it with his fingers.

Nayib stood behind him, their bodies almost touching and watched Tabor. He felt an electrical sense of anxiety, a quavering inside as he watched Tabor. He raised his hands and took the younger man's shoulders leaning in and kissing him softly on the neck. Tabor sighed and closed his eyes. "Nayib?"

"Yes?" Nayib whispered.

"What does it look like?"

Nayib stared into the mirror, into the anxious eyes of his lover. Tabor was waiting for his opinion. He leaned down and kissed Tabor's neck, kissing softly the red line that marred his smooth skin. "You look beautiful. You look like you, Tabor. You're here, safe and alive. That's what it looks like, like it doesn't matter."

He turned and looked up into Nayib's dark eyes. "You don't think it matters?"

"Not to me," Nayib whispered shaking his head. He slipped his arms around Tabor's waist pulling him closer. "I don't know what you feel, Tabor, but it doesn't change you. It doesn't make a difference to me. I just love you the way you are, no matter what."

Tabor inhaled deeply leaning forward to rest his head on Nayib's shoulder. He nodded slightly. "Good," he whispered softly. "I don't know what to think."

"That's all right. You don't have to think about it now," Nayib said stroking Tabor's thick black hair. "You don't have to feel anything about it right now."

"I almost died didn't I."

"Yes, you did," Nayib said his eyes burning.

"I don't ever want to leave you," Tabor whispered.

"I don't want to ever lose you. This was too hard. I'm sorry, Tabor. I'm sorry you got hurt."

"It wasn't your fault. I don't remember anything but I know it wasn't your fault, Nubby."

Nayib smiled squeezing Tabor tightly. "You're a kind person."

"I'm loyal. Just like you."

"Yeah," Nayib agreed. "I love you. You're the one for me."

"I don't remember a lot of things."

Nayib looked down into Tabor's dark eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Tabor smiled slightly. "I think that's all I can remember."

Nayib smiled. "Good. As long as you remember who I am I can handle anything."

Tabor sighed and leaned back into his lover, resting his head against Nayib's shoulder. It felt good to be held and when the older man turned and walked him back to the bed he didn't hesitate. Tabor lay down and watched as Nayib went to the other side and joined him, gently pulling Tabor into his own embrace.

He snuggled in, feeling safe and warm in the grip of the bigger man. "You feel good."

"So do you, Tabor," Nayib said kissing Tabor's forehead. "It's been a long time since we were like this."

"How long?"

"A good month."

Tabor sighed. "That's a long time. What now?"

"You rest and then we go to a rendezvous where we talk peace again with different people."

Tabor glanced up, a slight frown on his face. "Wasn't that how this happened?"

"It's all right," Nayib soothed settling the younger man against him again. "It's different people this time."

"Good," Tabor said with a yawn. "Good." He closed his eyes, falling into a light sleep. Nayib held him, as content as he had ever felt and he wondered what would lie ahead. If they could ever achieve peace he knew what he wanted after that because half of his future he held here in his arms. A lot would depend on a peace deal they could all accept. A whole lot of things indeed.

**********Khitomer, Admiral Paris' Offices ...

The computer let him in and Owen Paris stood waiting his back ramrod stiff. The man entered, his face devoid of emotion. He paused and then stepped forward stopping before the desk that separated them.

"Owen, good of you to see me," he said a sarcastic echo in his voice.

"What do you want, Neil?"

Blanchard looked at him. "You know what I want. I'm going with you."

"You think so do you?" Owen replied his spine stiffening more.

"Of course. You're a military arm that is subordinate to the will of the Federation Council. You don't have the authority to supercede civilian control."

"I have been given the authority to negotiate a peace agreement by the Federation High Council and by Star Fleet Command. I don't need your authority."

"You'll need the votes I control. I can make or break any agreement that you negotiate with the Maquis. You know that."

Owen stared at Blanchard, his face a mask of glacial disdain.

"What's your ploy?"

Blanchard shrugged slightly. "It's not personal. It's the way the game is played. You need to do what you do, I need to do what I do. In the end we both get what we need."

"What do you need?" Owen persisted watching as the other man gazed around the office.

"I need to show progress. I need to show my side of things that we have something to show for ten years of war."

"Such as?"

"The return of the hostages, for example. We need

our people back."

"Is that all?" Owen asked.

Blanchard considered Owen a moment. "We need to have concessions from the Maquis. We need to have them lay down their arms and we need to have their leadership face charges for the things that they did."

Owen snorted. "You don't ask for much do you. You actually expect them to *comply* with those demands?"

"Sure," Blanchard replied. "Why not? If we don't give them any other choice-"

"They don't *need* to make choices. They're cloaked for god sake. Where in the *name* of hell have you been the last year and a half?"

Blanchard stared at him, sizing up Paris' rage. "I've been working hard to assure Star Fleet that you would have all that you needed to fight these bastards. *I've* been working hard so that you could catch them and destroy them. Of course, we *all* know how successful *that* has been."

Owen stared at him, his volcanic temper roiling inside of him. Quashing it, he relaxed sitting in his chair gazing at Blanchard with a cool expression. "You've been working have you? You, who sit behind a desk ordering other men to do your dirty work, *you've* been working for us." Owen smiled a cold and humorless smile. "It's really easy for you to stand well behind the lines and order people to do things that can end in death. It must make you feel really powerful to do that. It's safe, it's clean, you never see the blood and hear the cries. You never step over dead children to get to the next target. All the objectives are just dots on maps, just lists of statistics to people like you."

Blanchard snorted. "Who are you-"

"Who am *I*?" Paris interjected. "*I'm* the man that writes the letters to parents telling them that their children are dead. *I'm* the man who implements your *grand designs*. I'm the man who stood on ships and got shot at doing my *duty*. What the *fuck* have you *ever* sacrificed for the good of the Federation? What! Oh, maybe you had to ration your tea from the rim or maybe you had to wait ten minutes longer to get some where because a troop ship had to leave ahead of you ... *you don't know shit*!"

Paris rose and walked around the desk, moving to the wall screen. He punched up the database and names began to scroll by, names of people and ships lost in the war. He turned and looked at Blanchard. "These are the people and ships that were lost during the war. These are mother's sons and father's sons and daughters and aunts, uncles and friends. These are young kids and mature adults who are dead because of you and me. These are the ships that are lost and the hopes that are gone forever. Don't *tell* me what you have done. *You haven't done shit*! You never took a chance and you never put yourself into harm's way. You sat behind a desk, you signed requisitions and people like me had to send kids to their deaths. Fuck you, *Mr. Vice President*, fuck you and all the hawks that have the *balls* to think that they can stand in front of men like me and tell us something about war."

Blanchard stared at him, his face pale and his eyes filled with anger and uncertainty. He cleared his throat. "I'm coming with you. I'm transferring to Enterprise from my own shuttle and I'm leaving now to do it."

Owen moved closer, invading Blanchard's space. "Fine. Just know one thing. You're on *my* turf and if you get into the way even *just* a little, I'll have your ass thrown into the Brig and the combination to your cell erased. Do you understand me?"

Blanchard considered him. "For now," he replied. "Don't even think that this is over between us."

"I count on it, Blanchard," Owen said hotly as he watched the man turn and walk out the door. He stood silently for a moment and then he exhaled, silently cursing himself for letting his emotions go. Then he shook that off. It had felt good. Blanchard was the enemy and they both knew where they stood. Turning, he walked to his desk. Punching the comm channel, he cleared his throat. "Commodore, I want my shuttle ready to go now. We're on our way a few hours early."

"Very well, Admiral," a soft voice replied. "Should I inform Enterprise?"

"Yes. Actually, open a channel to Picard. I'll tell him myself."

"Very good," the voice said fading as another voice took over.

"This is Commander Riker of Enterprise."

"Commander, this is Admiral Paris. Put me through to Captain Picard."

"Very well," Riker said tapping the button on his panel.

He leaned back and considered the second of two messages that had just arrived at their ship. The first was from Blanchard, telling he would be arriving shortly. This one was from Paris. He mused on the possibilities and mentally shrugged them off. He would know more when they arrived at the ship and then he would have more to send to Broken Tree. The Maquis would be interested in knowing that Blanchard was in the mix again, of that Tom Riker was certain.

=0=

Book Twenty-Four: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

They stood out, the ships moving from their parking orbits loaded with people and plans and hopes. Ships in orbit around Broken Tree signaled their support with flashing lights and radio traffic. It was a sparkling send off that sent them into the night running uncloaked until the DMZ. Tuvok sat in his command seat, his son at his side. Sek was sitting in the seat generally reserved for first officers. He had asked to come and Tuvok relented silently glad for the company. His son was going to be with him and he felt strong and hopeful regarding their mission.

Behind them, working at Tactical Kira Nerys went about her business. Miles OBrien was at Ops and Julian Bashir stood nearby his eyes focused on the view screen. It was filled with the bright image of Voyager or rather Crazy Horse. In no time, they would cross the invisible demarcation line that separated friendly and enemy territory. Beyond that line, the familiarity of Star Fleet awaited.

Julian considered the changes a year could make and stepped down, pausing before his captain "Mr. Tuvok, I would like permission to stay on the Bridge. I am interested in the crossing."

Tuvok considered Julian's request and nodded. "Permission granted."

Julian smiled and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He turned and stepped back up moving to sit on a small bench near Ops. Turning, he watched as the debris of the asteroid field came into view. It wouldn't be long now and they would be on the other side. God only knew how the negotiations would turn out. He planned to pray that they would work. It would mean the end of the war and the end of this conflict, both welcome possibilities to this doctor.

**********Bridge, Crazy Horse ...

"We're passing the DMZ, Chakotay," Tom said glancing over his shoulder at his commander.

"Very well," Chakotay replied opening a link to Tuvok. "We're going on. You cloak and parallel us, Tuvok."

"Affirmative," Tuvok's voice replied.

The image on the screen shivered and Liberty disappeared shimmering into invisibility. Tom smiled, the sight ever exciting to see. Liberty would move to their starboard flying silently along side of them. None would see her, none would detect her. It was their ace in the hole if things didn't go the way they planned. The lift opened and Kolopak stepped out followed by Maria and Bey. They walked to the command area, Maria sitting in Chakotay's old chair. He smiled and rose gesturing for his father to sit in his own seat. Kolopak smiled and moved making a show of taking Chakotay's place.

"Nice fit," Bey said a grin on his face.

"I could probably get used to this," Kolopak teased noting his wife's amusement.

"Ah, the anti-modern man succumbs," Maria said smiling at her husband with deep and open affection.

"This was Kathryn's chair wasn't it," Kolopak asked noting the flicker on his son's face.

"For a long time," Chakotay said.

"She's on Liberty?" Kolopak asked.

Chakotay nodded. "Yes," he replied. "I think it's easier for her to be on that ship than this one."

Kolopak nodded. "We're in Federation space now."

"Yes," Bey replied noting the activity around him.

"We'll be there soon, a day or so. Hopefully, it will be a better meeting this time."

Kolopak nodded with a sigh. "Yes. Where's Nayib?"

"He's with Tabor," Bey replied.

"He's recovering well, that one," Maria said. "I'm glad. I've never seen Nayib so distraught."

"I've never seen him so in love," Bey replied with a sigh.

"That sounded wistful," Kolopak said, eying his son.

Bey grinned glancing at Chakotay. "Don't get any ideas about me. I'm fine."

"Sure," Chakotay replied slapping Bey on the back. "Solid as a rock."

Tom grinned. "I hate to break up your family chat but we're coming onto ship sign."

They turned and Chakotay ordered up a chart of space ahead. Dots on the grid showed a military presence in a bracket shape around the spot that they were to meet Enterprise.

"What do you think it means?" Bey asked glancing at Chakotay.

"Tom, superimpose charts from other trips out over this one."

Tom complied and the grid was little changed from then until now. Chakotay relaxed slightly. "Standard placement." He turned and looked toward Harry. "Mark them all, Harry. If they move from where they are let me know. Let me know if they're joined by anymore ships."

Harry nodded. "Aye, aye."

Chakotay turned mulling over the situation. "Chakotay to Tuvok."

"Tuvok here."

"Do you see what we see?"

"Affirmative. We've compared them against prior outings and there is very little difference. However we are going to plot them in case something is afoot."

Chakotay smiled. "Good idea. I'm contacting Riker."

"Very well. Keep me informed."

"Will do. Chakotay out."

He turned and looked up at the Tactical station. "Rick, coordinate the tracking with Harry. If anything happens, let me know." He turned to the others. "I'll be right back."

He turned and left the Bridge, walking to his Ready Room. Ten minutes later, he returned, standing behind Tom, a hand resting on his shoulder. "I sent a message to Riker. He'll update us shortly."

Tom nodded. "You don't think something's up do you?"

"Doesn't hurt to anticipate," Chakotay replied, squeezing Tom's shoulder. "Doesn't hurt a bit."

**********Enterprise ...

Tom Riker took the message and turned to the computer, running a check of the sector. Traffic was as it normally was in a military zone on wartime footing. He composed a message to Chakotay informing him of Blanchard's inclusion and set it out on the back of routine traffic. Sitting back, he considered the next few days. If they were as tense as the arrival of the Admiral and Vice President was things would be very interesting indeed.

**********Liberty ...

She sat by the window sipping coffee and considering her situation. This was her second ship, the one given to her to help her find her first one. She had lost both and it rankled. However, she quashed it pushing it down into the snake's nest of other disappointments and concentrated on the matter at hand. This meeting would determine the formal talks and where, if indeed they would be held. She was hoping for Earth. She wanted them all to come and make their case on the human homeworld. She was aware of the support that was growing among the weary for this war to end and she felt it was important for the outcome for the Maquis to come and show themselves as human, as people, as similar to themselves.

Kathryn sighed and sipped the hot liquid in her cup. Hopefully, she would be there watching and helping. This whole mess had turned her upside down taking her values and convictions and twisting them into knots. She didn't know what she truly believed anymore. Was any of it real? She couldn't say anymore. She just knew that she had to be in this until the end. She had to see how it ended. With a sigh, she sat in the mess hall and waited. She waited like all the others for something, *something* to happen.

**********Bridge, Crazy Horse ...

"Enterprise at one seven seven mark two," Tom said noting the leading edge of his scope.

"Very well," Chakotay said leaning down and tapping the comm line. "Tuvok, we have them. We're going in."

"Affirmative," Tuvok replied. "We're here, nearby."

Chakotay nodded. "We don't detect anything more than the Enterprise," Chakotay said glancing at Harry who nodded. "Keep us covered."

"Affirmative. Tuvok out."

Chakotay turned and watched as the tiny glow became more distinct. "Open a channel, Harry, audio only."

"Channel open."

"Enterprise, this is Captain Chakotay of the Maquis battlecruiser, Crazy Horse. Acknowledge."

The screen flickered and the Bridge of Enterprise appeared.

"Admiral Paris here, Captain," an older man said. Nodding to his companion, he introduced him. "I'm sure you remember Captain Picard."

"Captain Picard," Chakotay acknowledged. "We're here as we agreed."

"So are we," Paris replied. "Captain, in the interests of the good of the order I must tell you that Vice President Blanchard insisted upon attending this meeting."

"On what authority? Our agreement was with you."

"This negotiations will be between us as we agreed. Blanchard is here on observer status only."

Chakotay paused a moment and then nodded. "Very well. We're ready at 1630 hours as agreed. Oh and Admiral, in the interest of the good of the order ... we're not alone."

Picard felt a slight flash of amusement course through him as he glanced at the admiral. Owen Paris' face held a trace of amusement as well. "Thank you for the warning, Captain. 1630 hours it is. Paris out."

The image faded and Tom let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. Glancing backward, he noted Chakotay's wry grin. He grinned back and watched as Chakotay turned, gathering with his brother and father as the lift opened. Nayib and Tabor stepped out moving toward the group in the middle.

For a moment they just talked and then they turned walking toward the door and the lift. Tabor hugged Nayib tightly and watched as he left, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. Maria rose and took his hand smiling at him as he turned. "Come, Tabor. Let's have some tea shall we? You can tell me about yourself."

Tabor relaxed and turned walking with her down the corridor toward Chakotay's Ready Room. Kolopak watched them go and turned toward the screen relaxing into Chakotay's chair with a big grin.

"This could be habit forming," he said chuckling. Tom smiled. "It fits you."

"No," Kolopak demurred with a grin. "I'm more the horse and buggy type."

"Could have fooled me," Tom said turning back to his panel with a grin.

"Good," Kolopak said folding his arms across his chest in relaxation, a slow smile forming on his handsome face.

**********Enterprise ...

They materialized in the main transporter room, tense greetings being offered. Turning, they walked out and down the corridor, a silent cluster of very strong men heading to a meeting that could change the course of history. Picard led the way entering the lift and by the time they had all reached the chamber for discussions, they had relaxed slightly. Troi stood by the window watching the same group enter as it had once before.

They made small talk, taking glasses of wine into hand. There would be a slight informality and then the hard-nosed business of planning for formal talks. She was sure that they would be held on Earth, some place where they could be seen in discussion. It was rumored that a speech before the High Council would be in order. She didn't really know. Rumors were flying and everyone was hoping. It was almost more than she could stand.

Paris turned and raised his glass. "To peace and productivity. May we all be bigger than our differences and make this moment count."

Chakotay raised his glass noting his delegation rising to the toast. As he did, the door opened and Neil Blanchard, Vice President and Acting President of the Federation entered the room.

=0= tbc c2001/2010


	25. Chapter 25

=0=

Book Twenty-Five: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

Owen Paris stood in his office at Star Fleet Command. Going

in and out quietly, commodores, captains and admirals brought things and took them away as the core team worked out the dialogs, schedules and divisions of labor that would constitute the bulk of the negotiations. On the trip home, Owen had a long serious talk with the recovered President of the Federation. He had been shaken by his experience but aware of the gravity of their position.

He was keenly aware of what cloaked ships could do.

Sitting in his suite on the Enterprise, dressed in a robe, fresh from a thorough and complete physical, he was brought up to speed by Owen and two other solemn-faced officers. Neil Blanchard, anxious to speak to him as well paced in the corridor cooling his heels in ill-tempered impatience as he watched Star Fleet come and go from the apartment.

By the time that he was allowed in, the president was fully aware of all the events that had transpired in his absence. He nodded as Neil scurried in, halting before him with a strained expression on his face. "They wouldn't let me see you until now. The bastards actually told me to wait."

"It would seem reasonable don't you think, Neil, to wait for the doctors to see if I was all right?

He paused and then willed himself to simmer down. "You're right. I was just so *shocked* to see you again, to see you whole."

"They really pulled a fast one, I grant you," the taciturn man replied, his voice evenly tempered.

"Is that *all you can say*?" Blanchard replied, shock registering on his face. "They took you captive. They held you against your will. We're having an *incident* here, Keith!"

"I understand that you had one of your own earlier."

It was silent a moment. Then Blanchard moved over and

sat down in a chair.

"It was a calculated risk, Keith."

"Was it? *Whose* risk? Who was the risk calculated against?"

Blanchard stared at him a moment and then shrugged slightly, leaning back in his chair. "I did what my best judgment called for."

"Shooting people under a flag of truce? That was judgment? You do realize that there is something called the high moral ground don't you?" he asked leaning forward, a frown of anger forming on his face.

"We're fighting the Maquis here, not the boy scouts. These people are murderers. They blow things up. Have you forgotten about the fuel dumps? Maybe you haven't heard about them."

"I've been brought up to speed by Admiral Paris."

"*Paris* ... that man is a bastard. He's going to sell us out to get a peace deal that no one can live with," Blanchard snapped rising and pacing toward the window. He spun. "That *bastard* actually went behind my back and severed us from the negotiations."

"That man salvaged this whole situation, Neil. He got them back to the table after you fired on them. You could have killed them. Do you know what could have happened if you had killed Kolopak of Dorvan V?"

Neil looked at the President, his expression that of a man filled with contempt. "He should hang. The Maquis are his creatures. You can't deal with traitors, Keith. Trust me."

The President leaned back, a smirk forming on his face. "You know something about treason, Neil? Is that what you're saying to me?"

Blanchard blinked, his face darkening with anger. "You were captured and held prisoner, Keith. They made us think that they cut off your hand. Your family was put through hell, the Federation too and yet you sound like you're moving toward appeasement."

The President considered him, watching his face as the man who had been chosen by his party for his running mate spoke to him of things that had been on his mind for the whole of his captivity. "You have no idea what you're talking about. For years, I've watched you and your friends twist our party until it's something I don't recognize. There's a cancer at the heart of our party, Neil. A cancer that's eating away at our civility and our core beliefs. You would turn over everything that we believe in to quash these people and in the doing of it, you would spark more war."

The President rose, staring at his running mate with fury.

"They have cloaked ships. Paris and the others, they're no more able to penetrate their technology than they are able to penetrate their forces. A cloaked ship will be coming with the Crazy Horse, paralleling them as they come to Earth and we won't be able to detect them. They'll cross our security markers and hover nearby. If there are any more double crosses like before, there will be nothing we can do to prevent them from attacking Earth and causing whatever damage they choose to inflict. They could maraud wherever they want and we couldn't stop them.

"What is there in your ideological thick headedness that prevents you from either seeing that or understanding that? Do you have so little emotional attachment to the safety and well-being of our people and their lives that you would put vengeance over leadership, that you would try a double cross with them again?"

"You're going to give them what they want aren't you."

"I'm going to sit down with them and hear them out. I'm going to negotiate a settlement of this war that gives both sides what they want as much as is possible. It's the only way to end it with any kind of hope of getting a future going again."

"That's appeasement."

"No, Neil ... that's called leadership," Nolan said staring at the silent man before him.

"You're going to have to do it without my help and without the support that I carry in the party."

"Fine," Nolan said, turning back and sitting. "I've never really had it before. Why should I mourn the lack of it now?"

"You're a fool, Keith," Blanchard said turning and walking to the door. He paused and turned back. "You won't win. You don't have the votes."

"We'll see," Nolan said watching as his running mate walked out the door. It closed and Nolan sighing deeply rubbing his face with his hands. He considered his position and made a pact within himself. He glanced at the door, a small smile forming on his face in spite of himself. "We'll see, you little fucker, we'll see."

**********Crazy Horse ...

"Then what happened?"

"Chakotay came to his senses and stepped away," he said nuzzling his lover's neck. "Then the best part happened."

"Really?" The younger smaller man smiled, turning his brown eyes to the man in whose arms he was entwined. "What happened then?"

"Well ... a better looking man swept in and gathered you into his much more manly chest. You looked at him, at his much handsomer face and fell deeply and permanently in love with him. It was inevitable. The handsomer, much more manly man was totally gone for you from way back when."

"And this manly man, he wouldn't be you would he?" Tabor asked sighing as his lover kissed along his jawline.

"Yes, it was me. Being the better man that I was, you were doomed to be with me, destined and deigned. I'm sure that there are other "D" words that fit but right now I'm too busy sucking on your neck to think of them."

Tabor snickered, tilting his head to accommodate his lover. Nayib, his hand slipping into the white shirt the Bajoran wore kissed his way up the soft skin of Tabor's neck, finding his lips hungrily. He entwined Tabor tightly in his arms, the pale light of the stars outside the window the only illumination. "Nayib ..."

"What, baby?" Nayib whispered as he gently pushed the younger man down onto the couch.

"Tell me more ... about this manly man and his less handsome younger brother."

Nayib paused, a smile crossing his face. "You picked up on that didn't you."

"I did," Tabor sighed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as his hands rubbed Nayib's chest gently. Tabor grinned and shifted allowing the bigger man to settle on top of his body.

"Well ... this younger man was a good man but he was in love with someone else. He loved you more than you can imagine but he was caught in a web of love with someone else. It sort of sounds like a romance novel ... 'A Twisted Love'. That would describe it to a tee."

Tabor snorted, sighing with contentment. "More."

"Anyway, this older man, devilishly handsome and intensely virile ... he could go all night, this handsome older man ... he was hot for you. He wanted you. He *dreamed* about you ... all 'X' rated of course ..."

"Of course," Tabor agreed kissing Nayib back as he leaned down. It was silent a moment and then Tabor sighed. "More."

"He loved you madly and passionately, so he took you on consignment."

"Consignment?"

"Yeah. You see, the devilishly handsome older brother never had any luck at love and so he wasn't sure that you were the one."

"He was-, you weren't?" Tabor asked with surprise.

Nayib smiled. "I wasn't that is until the first time you smiled at me and then I was hung like a dog on a fence post."

"You were?" Tabor asked painstakingly searching his memories for something that would approximate a memory.

"Yeah. I had it bad," Nayib whispered kissing Tabor softly. "You don't remember do you."

"I remember that you love me. I remember alot of emotions but I can't remember what you're telling me. Chakotay needed me, I can remember. I remember needing him. Then you were there and I felt so safe and wanted."

"You are. I want you with me, Tabor. You're mine. Tell me that you're mine," Nayib whispered the need in his voice soft and intense.

"I am," Tabor whispered back his dark eyes held in the burning gaze of Nayib's emotional stare. "I remember that. I remember being with you but ..."

"But what, Tabor?" Nayib asked nuzzling the soft skin by Tabor's ear.

"I don't remember what happened to me."

Nayib raised his head, his eyes filled with passion. A smile formed on his lips. "You don't have to remember that. I don't want you to. I'll remember it for both of us, Tabor. I told you that I would. All you have to know is that you're safe and I love you."

Tabor sighed, nodding slightly. "Don't ever go away again."

Nayib nodded. "I never will."

For a moment, they stared at each other and then Nayib rose, pulling Tabor to his feet. Slipping his arms around the younger man, he gently hefted him up and turned walking to the bedroom beyond. The door opened and they entered. Then it closed silently behind them. It was quiet in the day room as Crazy Horse continued on shadowed by Federation war ships as she made her way to the peace conference to be held in San Francisco in two more days.

**********A crew cabin ...

Harry Kim lay sleeping, the form of his lover spooned behind him. Gina sighed in her sleep, the soft sound of her breath a whisper in the dark room. Shift had been over and he had come home to the girl he had lived with for several weeks. It was a good thing he had someone who understood his particular pain. They were going to Earth and it wasn't clear that he would be able to see or send a message to his parents in Monterey, California. He had an appointment with Chakotay in the morning to talk about this. He hoped it would be allowed.

He burned to see them, to tell them of his life and his adventures. He wanted them to meet Gina too. That brief glimpse of the two of them walking along the beach inhabited his dreams each night when he went to sleep and now it wasn't enough. He had to see them again. He had to.

**********An Ambassador's state room ...

Beyvahl of Dorvan V sat at a window staring out into the darkness of space. They were sealed in a steel-and-glass can, hurtling through space at a speed even Einstein couldn't have visualized and they were heading into the heart of the enemy. It seemed impossible that the greatest sorrows of his life could be so tied together. His father, his mother, his youngest brother, the rim and her people, the terrible burden of leading the Maquis, it was all woven together like a tapestry. He was caught in its weave like a colored piece of string in the middle of an ocean of white threads.

It had come down to this, the years of struggle, the doubt and pain, the loss and the burden ... it was on his back but he wasn't alone. His father would be by his side. It had been an immeasurable relief finding his father again. The dread memories of that day when he had to leave him behind had marked Bey, aging him beyond his years. Now they began to slip away, the boulders that he had piled on his own back and he could feel himself straighten up once more.

His father was alive. His father was alive. He repeated

it over and over convincing himself that this moment was real and not a dream. His father was alive and he wasn't alone in his journey to find an end to the strife that had been his burden for all these long and lonely years.

He was with Kolopak of Dorvan V. There was nothing he couldn't face now. He was with his father and they would do what they were born to do, to serve their people at this moment to the best of their ability. To hell with the rest. He rose and sighed, turning and glancing at the chronometer. 0200. He had to sleep. With a deep and cleansing breath, he turned and walked into the bedroom to sleep.

**********Captain's cabin ...

Chakotay slipped in, taking care of himself. He slid into bed, spooning his naked body behind Tom's. The feel of warm soft flesh pressing against his groin felt magnificent as Chakotay wrapped his arms around Tom's body. He sighed, kissing Tom's shoulder gently.

"You all right?" Tom asked his voice thick with sleep.

"I am," Chakotay whispered back. "Sleep."

"You too."

"I will," Chakotay replied laying his head against Tom's shoulder. "Eventually."

It was quiet as they lay together and finally sleep claimed them both. In the morning, they would be one day away from Enterprise and only a few more away from the Sol System. From there they would move to Earth, falling into a pre-agreed orbit. At that moment, at that particular time they would be on their own as Liberty slipped away toward Mars. She would hold in a parking orbit in the debris field that divided the inner and outer planets.

She would sit like a crocodile in the shoals and watch for the slightest hint of trouble. If there were any, she would be able to respond. She would be able to devastate the Sol System in seconds. And the Federation wouldn't know what hit them.

=0=

Book Twenty-Five: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

"They're signaling."

Harry's voice rose over the tension. Chakotay nodded and rose, stepping to stand behind Tom. "Signal back."

It was silent a moment and then Harry spoke again. "We're cleared to pass the out world beacons, Chakotay."

Chakotay nodded. "Very well. Signal the Enterprise. Tom, take us in slowly. Don't exceed the speed limitations of the agreement."

"Aye," Tom replied his fingers moving over the panel before him. He nudged the ship taking her in on impulse speed. They passed the station that hung in the darkness just before the slight gravity well of Pluto. Her lights shone in the perennial nighttime like diamonds. They slipped past her, the Enterprise running a respectful second place as behind her flying silently and invisibly came the Liberty. They flew on, the specters of Neptune and Uranus looming and fading as they continued. Jupiter and her station, her many moons encircling her deadly radioactive heart loomed before them.

"Maybe we should tell the Doc we just passed his dad's house," Tom whispered pleased to see a slight wisp of humor cross Chakotay's face.

"I'll tell him at dinner," Chakotay quipped.

Tom smiled and watched as Jupiter and Saturn faded and Mars and the debris field of the Van Allen Belt loomed ahead. They slipped through, the markers of the clear lanes more than helpful. Earth was now visible on the forward screen and they watched it aware that this image would be on screens all over the ship.

"Earth Con-Cen to Intrepid Class vessel. Respond."

"This is the Maquis battle cruiser, Crazy Horse. Acknowledge as per the agreement," Chakotay snapped irritated with the lack of compliance even on so little an issue.

There was silence a moment and another voice spoke. "Maquis battle cruiser Crazy Horse, this is Earth Con-Cen. We have you five by five and grant permission for you to take up orbit as per the negotiated agreement."

"Acknowledged, Con-Cen," Chakotay replied, glancing back and sighing.

His father, sitting in the First Officer chair smiled shaking his head slightly.

"It's not a done deal, the agreement that we come. We will face fierce opposition. Even in the lower ranks," he said, watching the sour look cross his son's face.

"Perhaps," Bey agreed. "However, we should start on equal footing before we get down to the basic hateful stuff."

Nayib stepped down onto the main Bridge floor, walking leisurely toward where Chakotay stood, watching as the great ship fell into her orbit. She was one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, roughly half the distance from the moon and in the orbit kept for high security risks and visiting functionaries from species for which little was known.

"Con-Cen, orbit achieved," Tom spoke putting the computer lock on the coordinates.

"Affirmative, Crazy Horse. You are on our scope."

Tom looked up, noting the silence around him.

"We're here. What now?" Chakotay posed.

"The hard stuff begins. We have to sit down and talk to each other," Bey said sighing.

"We're going to be letting the reporter off when we leave here. His story is that the runabout was in trouble when we rescued him and that he was held in the Brig until we got here," Nayib said.

Chakotay nodded. "Good. Better get him ready to go. We're supposed to be at a meeting in thirty minutes."

Nayib nodded. He turned and left the Bridge as the others began to organize to go down. Tom would be here in charge of the ship and Chakotay would accompany his brothers and father to the meeting. It would be a direct beam down to the big council chamber in the Star Fleet HQ.

Chakotay turned to Tom and kissed him, squeezing his arm. "Keep the com channel open and a lock on us at all times."

Tom nodded. "Chakotay ... give this to my dad if you can."

He pulled a small padd from his tunic and held it out. He had labored over it for two days and he wanted the small note to reach his parents. Chakotay nodded and kissed Tom again, lingering on his lips. "See you in a few."

Tom nodded. "Take care and come back."

Chakotay grinned and nodded back. "I always do." He turned and followed the others, entering the lift. The door closed and it was quiet. Nearby, watching him with hooded eyes B'Elanna sat at the engineering station. She rose and paused, her manner uncomfortable. "I'll be in engineering if you need me," she said nodding stiffly. She turned and walked to the lift disappearing into the ship silently.

Tom watched her go and sighed. He had filed a divorce petition citing irreconcilable differences a week before and it had gone through uncontested. He was now a free man and they were no longer married. He was still filled with the sense of futility that had dogged him from day one but it was too late now. It was too late for them the moment the Vedek acted on his plan a decade before. With a sigh, he turned and walked to the conn, sitting and tapping into the news channel. There was nothing on the news about the meeting.

**********At a transporter room nearby ...

Jake Sisko stood impatiently waiting for the word to leave. He had not had a chance to talk to his friends on Liberty, the transmission a potential breach of security. He had spent the evening talking to Kolopak and Beyvahl of Dorvan V. He had an agreement to interview Sek of Vulcan and to speak to his friends ironed out with their agreement. He was keenly aware of their desire to have their tale told. He was also keenly aware of his own desire to tell it.

This was a monumental moment in their history. War could finally end now. He was here at ground zero and he ached to tell what he knew. He would hurry home once Security released him and get with the network editors. They would run with his story as soon as he could tap it out on the computer. Of that, he was sure.

"You're set to go," the chief called out and Jake turned stepping onto the platform. He nodded and the chief moved his fingers sending him on his way. Greg Ayala lowered his weapon and turned hurrying to the other transporter room. He would be an armed guard for the delegation and he had to hurry.

**********Down below ...

Owen Paris, immaculately turned out stood next to the President of the Federation, the Honorable Keith Nolan. Behind and around them, colorful delegates of the Federation's many political units stood as well, representing their people and points of view. Nearby, his face a calm facade Vice President Neil Blanchard waited with his allies from the High Council. He had forced a place at the table too.

The air shimmered as men and women materialized. Kolopak, dressed in Maquis leather stood with his sons on each side of him. Chakotay flanked his left with Greg Ayala. On Kolopak's right, Beyvahl stood mute and impressive in his solemnity. Behind them, two members of the Revolutionary Council, Tec, a Vulcan and Fura, an Andorian rounded out the delegation. They all stood silently each taking the measure of the other. Then President Nolan stepped forward, extending his hand. "My name is Keith Nolan and I'm President of the Federation."

Kolopak took his hand clasping it firmly. "My name is Kolopak of Dorvan V and I am Commandant of the Maquis Revolutionary Council."

Cameras buzzed and a murmur filled the air. They stood a moment and then Owen stepped forward flanked by Captain Picard and Commander Riker. "Commandant, I am delighted that you could be here," he said his manner impeccable.

Chakotay watched him shake his father's hand and felt a moment of pride for Tom. His father was out on a limb a mile and the sharks were circling he noted glancing slightly to the left to watch Blanchard. The Vice President was standing with a group of stern-faced and gray-haired men and he noted that they were the hard line opposition to the Maquis as outlined in the intelligence they had received over Reg Barclay's enhanced comm system.

The pleasantries continued as Chakotay and Bey shook many hands and then it was concluded. They walked together, a mixed group toward the beautiful HQ of Star Fleet. The sky was blue overhead and the breeze warm. They entered and walked on coming upon the conference room that would be the chief arena of their upcoming bouts.

Each took their side standing for pictures and then the cameras were ushered out. Nolan gestured for them to sit and all did, slowly and with great dignity. Chakotay noted that more than fifty people were in the room arrayed against them as the reps of worlds and the reps of different points of view took their place around one side of the room. They had lots of room on their own side he considered. Lots and lots of room.

"Commandant Kolopak, we're honored to have you here so that we can begin discussions about what to do to make the peace."

Kolopak nodded to Nolan, noting the tightening of expressions around the table. A number of people obviously didn't agree.

"We came here in peace. We came here to discuss our grievances and find common ground. The sorrow and misery of the people of the frontier must be understood. The devastation of the people of the rim must be addressed."

"There is also the tale to be told of Maquis atrocities," Blanchard replied leaning on his elbows as he addressed Kolopak.

"There are atrocities on both sides, Mr. Vice President. Perhaps you will have to find out what they might be from others. I, myself was held in a Federation prison for nine years and listed as killed in action. I for one will be happy to address Federation atrocities up to the point where I was traded by the Cardassians to the Federation for the return of several mass murderers including the Gul Delanth."

For a moment, it was quiet and then Nolan spoke. "There are many things that we both have to account to. Many are the actions on both sides that bring no honor to our names. We also have to address present realities. We have to find a way to end the killing and the fighting. Our people want it to end."

"So do ours, Mr. President," a calm voice said from near the end of the table. "I for one am more than pleased to represent my own people at this conference. The peace movement is something to which I ascribe and to which I have given my service. I am aware of the prison to which the Commandant speaks. It was by my leave that young men and women left Vulcan to see about its existence. I think that we have an obligation to peace, gentlemen. To re-fight the war would not only be fruitless but immoral. We have an obligation to find a common ground."

The room was silent as the speaker's words were absorbed.

"With all do respect to Ambassador Spock," Blanchard began. "We just can't forget the past, the terrible things that Maquis have perpetuated against Federation people and property. We can't just overlook treason."

Spock stared at him gravely, his dark eyes holding Blanchard's gaze. "We can't forget it. But we can't live in it. We have to do what is right, just and decent. We have to find common ground. We can't overlook treason but we also can't overlook the costs of appeasement and withdrawal on the lives of millions of our people. There are two sides to every story, Mr. Vice President. To come to this table believing there is only one is not only illogical but dangerous to the interests of all concerned."

"Dangerous to whom, Mr. Ambassador?" Blanchard said his dark eyes fixing on Kolopak.

"Dangerous to any thinking and reasonable person, Mr. Vice President," Spock replied his voice even and modulated.

For a moment no one spoke, then Blanchard cleared his throat. "I can assume you are speaking for your government?"

"You may. My government and three others," Spock said his calm demeanor soothing to the moment.

Chakotay suppressed a smirk, his gaze fastened on the elderly Vulcan sitting in their midst, his enormous wisdom, the totality of his ability almost luminous around him.

"We have an agenda," Nolan began steering the group back to the moment.

"We have several amendments," Blanchard interjected pulling out his own padd.

"In due time, Mr. Vice President," Nolan said patiently. "In due time."

Chakotay settled back in his chair.

**********Later that night ...

"That Blanchard is a dick. I'd like to twist his neck."

Bey nodded. "I'd like to let you."

"Boys," their mother tempered her soft tsk-tsk almost comical in their immediate obedience to her soft chiding.

"I'm almost in agreement with them," Kolopak replied settled as he was on the couch, teacup in hand. He sighed, filled with dinner and thoughts deep and shallow. It had been a long and arduous day and three more promised to follow. Then he would deliver a speech before the assembled Federation Council.

"You need to go to bed," Bey suggested noting the fatigue in his father's eyes.

"I will," Kolo replied eyeing his boys. "You all go to bed."

Chakotay rose and Tom did too, followed by the others. They made their goodbyes and headed out walking as a group to the lift. They squeezed in, calling for their floors.

"What's the word from Liberty?" Nayib asked yawning.

"They're blue," Tabor replied.

"Good. So am I," Nayib answered back with a smirk.

"You're good to go too?" Tabor asked not quite catching the pun.

"No. I'll tell you later," Nayib replied slipping his arm around Tabor. "Nighty night boys," he said stepping out with his lover.

The lift continued and disgorged riders until only Tom and Chakotay were left. Tom leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes as Chakotay yawned next to him. "My, we're a lively bunch tonight."

"Conferences are so tedious," Chakotay replied stepping out as the lift door opened.

"I'll give you a back rub," Tom said as they walked along.

"And a foot rub?" Chakotay asked hopefully.

"Sure," Tom replied grinning.

They stopped as Chakotay entered their code. He turned and grinned at Tom wickedly. "How about a dick rub?"

Tom smirked at him. "Is that all you can think of at this moment, this *historical turning point in our collective history*?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Tom replied with a chuckle. "Me too."

They entered the cabin and the door slid shut.

=0= TBC


	26. Chapter 26

=0=

Book Twenty-Six: Nuclear Winter (1/4)

=0=

She stood impatiently, pacing back and forth at the main military transport station. She was wearing a spring dressand shoes that matched, her lustrous blonde hair swept up in a chignon. She was beautiful, of indeterminate age and furious. "Young man, I am the spouse of Admiral Owen Paris. He is leading the Fleet delegation at the peace talks now. My son is on the Crazy Horse and I am *determined* to see him."

Behind her, equally impressively turned out, Kathleen and Moira Paris watched. The poor young Commander that was facing their mother was trying his best to be gracious but Miriam Campbell Paris was having none of it. A call was being patched through to the conference which was due to convene in about an hour.

For twenty minutes they paced and then the Commander stepped out of his office, his face flushed with embarrassment. "Ma'am, we have permission and the Crazy Horse has accepted that you come aboard. I want you to know that I held for confirmation because I didn't want three ladies going some place where they might be hurt."

Miriam paused, her expression softening. "Of course, Commander. It's clear to me that you're a true gentleman. My daughters and I are in your debt."

He smiled, deeply relieved and gestured for them to enter the facility. They walked past, flashing their best smiles and entered the building, walking quickly to the transporter beyond. Taking their places, Miriam smiled again. "Commander, if you would be so gracious as to allow us to continue we would be in your debt."

He smiled, blushing slightly and turned, nodding to the transporter chief. He moved his hands and the women disappeared. Sighing with relief, he turned and shrugged. "What a gaggle of women."

"They're beautiful aren't they?" the chief replied.

The Commander grinned. "They are at that, Chief. I better go message the Admiral that his ladies are on the Crazy Horse. Frankly, Tim, I don't know what the world is coming to."

He turned and left, leaving the chief alone. The chief watched his superior officer leave and sighed. "Me either, Commander. Me either."

**********On Crazy Horse ...

She paused a moment getting her bearings and then descended from the pad, gathering her son into her arms. She held him tightly, swaying gently as she took him into her heart once more. Chakotay stood in the doorway, pausing to see what would happen and smiled. Two younger women engulfed Tom and he knew they were his older sisters. Tom whooped with pleasure, hugging each sister and as he turned, he spotted Chakotay. Motioning him excitedly, Chakotay walked over. "Chakotay ... this is my mom and my sisters," Tom began, introducing them. "Mom, Kathleen and Moira, this is my best friend and my lover, Chakotay."

Miriam paused, glancing from Tom to the tall man beside him and then she sighed loudly. "You were married and now you're not. Thomas, *honestly*, I never could keep up with you." She smiled and extended her arms, hugging Chakotay tightly. "So, you're the one with my boy."

Chakotay nodded, blushing fiercely. "Yes, ma'am."

"Take good care of him. He's rather wayward," she said, giving Tom a good natured but pointed stare.

Chakotay chuckled. "I've noticed that myself."

Tom smirked and turned to Chakotay. "You have to go down in a few minutes."

"I wanted to see that you were okay," Chakotay replied honestly. He turned to Tom's family. "I have to go but I wanted to meet you. Make yourself at home and I hope to see you again before the day is over."

"I hope so too, Captain," she replied. "There is much to talk about."

Chakotay nodded and leaned in, kissing Tom softly. With a nod, he turned and left the room. They watched him go and then turned, looking at each other with amazement "You're here. You're actually here," Tom said, smiling broadly.

"Show us this place, Tom. I want to see where you've lived for the past almost ten years," his mother said, slipping her hand through his arm.

Tom grinned broadly, turning and walking out, his mother on his arm. Down the corridor they walked, the four of them, drawing stares and smiles as they headed for the lift. Entering, Tom called for the Bridge and they rode together in excited silence. Stepping off, they moved toward the conn, stepping down into the well of the Bridge together.

Harry looked up, transfixed by the sight and watched as Tom led three beautiful women toward the flight deck. He considered for a moment all the memories he had of Tom's few pictures and recognized Miriam Paris immediately. He moved away from Ops, stepping down the deck and walked to stand behind Tom as he explained the conn to his family. Moira, catching a movement, turned and looked at him, nudging Tom with her arm. He turned and smiled pulling Harry toward him.

"Mother, this is my friend, Harry Kim. We met on the first day and he's ... he's my brother, mom." Tom swallowed hard flushing with embarrassment over his emotional tumultuousness.

Harry extended his hand to Miriam. "I'm honored to meet you, Mrs. Paris. It's like Tom said, he's the best friend I ever had."

Miriam felt her eyes misting and she shook his hand back, leaning in and kissing Harry on the cheek. "I am honored to meet you too, Harry. My son told me a lot of things about you, about how you were his friend when he was alone. That means everything to me. I can't phrase it in the way I wanted to but I hope you understand what I'm trying to say," Miriam said.

Harry nodded. "I do, ma'am."

"Harry, this is my sister, Moira and my sister, Kathleen."

Harry shook their hands and stood, his face beaming with happiness for Tom.

"Um, Harry, why don't you join us for something, some wine. We're going to use the Ready Room."

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to intrude," he began but was cut off by Miriam, who slipped her arm through Harry's. Taking Tom's as well, she grinned. "You're not intruding. If you two handsome men will show us the Ready Room, we can all sit down and have a nice long talk."

Tom snorted and grinned at Harry. "You're outgunned here, Harry."

"That's fine with me, Tom," Harry said as they turned and walked toward the Ready Room.

Kathleen and Moira followed, grins on their faces and as they passed engineering, they nodded to the Klingon woman sitting at her station. She nodded back, watching as they disappeared down the corridor.

B'Elanna watched them, a momentary stab of pain at the unity of the group flashing through her chest as they passed her. With a sigh, she turned back to her station and was soon lost in her work.

**********At the conference ...

Chakotay sat in his chair, the conversation flowing all around him. They were going over critical points in the steps that would hopefully lead to a ceasefire and more breakthroughs in the distrust and anger that informed both sides. He fingered the small disk in his hand, a message padd for Owen Paris and counted the minutes until he could deliver it personally into his hands.

The meeting this morning of Tom's family was a delightful thing to the Captain. Tom had been naked in his emotion, overwhelmed by the trio of women who loved him so desperately. They had swarmed him, enveloping him in their unconditional love and he was still carrying the residual happiness himself.

After a moment of conversation back and forth, a break was called and the delegates rose, moving toward the refreshment table. Bey was collared by the Federation president and his father by Ambassador Spock, the two of them moving into a corner to talk in earnest. He rose and searched the crowd for Owen Paris. He noticed the Admiral talking to a Commodore and moved toward him, passing Neil Blanchard and two of his party.

Hard eyes fixed on him and he met them, pausing for a moment. The Vice President turned his head, whispering to one of his party and Chakotay moved on, a hard expression on his face. "Admiral Paris, may I speak to you a moment?" he asked, drawing the older man's clear blue eyes.

He nodded to his companion and turned, stepping to one side with the Maquis captain. Chakotay looked around and then turned, palming the padd. He reached out and Owen took his hand automatically. Chakotay held it, transferring the padd to the Admiral. "This is for you, from Tom," Chakotay said.

He looked at his palm, noting a small padd and then glanced up, nodding. "Thank you, Captain."

Chakotay smiled slightly. "I should thank you. I love your son."

Paris regarded him. "My son told me he was married. I can assume then that that relationship is over?"

"It is. It's not something that Tom wanted. It just happened."

Paris nodded, looking at the padd before slipping it into his tunic. He looked at Chakotay measuringly for a moment. "I can assume that my son loves you back?"

"Yes sir, you can."

"Then fine. Just be good to him. When this is all over we can get into the details. Right now, all I want to know is that my son is all right. He's had a rough time. I would be personally offended if that ever was his lot again."

"Yes sir," Chakotay replied. "I would too."

"We have to find our way here. We have to find a way out of this darkness."

"We will, Admiral. We all want to come home now."

"Most of us," Paris replied, casting a glimpse at the Vice President. "Some of us never fought the war in any way that mattered but you'd think they were grunts from the front lines."

Chakotay grinned. "You just have to prevail."

Paris turned and looked at him, a small smile forming on his handsome face. "I don't like losing."

"I can imagine, sir."

"Good," Paris replied. "Wine, Captain?"

"I would like that, Admiral."

"Good," Paris said, turning toward the table once more. "I'm buying."

Chakotay grinned and followed, the two men passing Blanchard. He had watched the exchange, including the transfer of the padd. Wondering about its contents, he filed the moment away. Maybe it would come in handy later he thought, turning and watching the two men as they both took wine from a steward at the refreshment table.

**********Liberty ...

Tuvok finished his meditations and rose, walking from the Ready Room to the Bridge once more. "Status," he asked, taking his seat.

"All is blue, Captain," Kira Nerys replied, checking her board over.

"Very well. Any communications from Crazy Horse."

"No sir," she replied. "None so far."

"Very well. Maintain open channels."

"Aye, sir," Kira replied, settling on her chair for a long afternoon.

Tuvok settled back, watching the screen ahead. The red dot to the left was Mars and far away, a small bright light on the magnified screen was Earth. Small bits of broken unformed planets surrounded them, diffusing with their ambient radiation any chance the Federation would have to scan for them. Ships came and went through the Narrows as the opening created by the Federation was called. They monitored them, their traffic and the encrypted messages of the Fleet Command.

Reg Barclay, working at the main laboratory on Broken Tree had cracked their codes with technology he had brought with him from Earth. They could read traffic, send their own over the arrays of the Federation piggybacked and unnoticed on normal transmissions and carry on their business thanks to the awkward and gifted young engineer.

The night before, Tuvok and Chakotay had a long conversation and in the end he had convinced Tuvok to send a clandestine message to his wife, T'Pel. If all went well, he would have a reply relayed by Crazy Horse before the night was over. In his message to his wife, he had told her that their son was safe and well and that Sek was with him.

She would be greatly relieved to know that. She would also pack a bag and make a journey by shank's mare if necessary to arrive on Earth as soon as possible. She would make her way to the Vulcan Embassy, requesting assistance. They would contact Crazy Horse and the slender woman would be taken onboard. By the time they stood out and reached open space beyond the Sol system, she would be transferred to Liberty and the husband who had been faithful to her for all the long and lonely years of exile. It would only be a matter of days now.

**********Later that afternoon ...

They took another break, talking together when the door opened and Picard walked in, a grim look on his face. He crossed the room and paused by Owen Paris, whispering in his ear for a moment. Chakotay watched, noting that Owen's expression hardened as well. Picard turned and walked back out the door, Paris turning himself and gathering officers around him. The group talked a moment and then the men turned, walking out quickly.

Owen Paris walked over to where President Nolan stood and engaged him briefly in conversation. Kolopak turned, noting the conversation as well. He turned again and walked to where Chakotay stood, Nayib at his side. "What do you suppose that's about?" he whispered.

"I don't know. Picard brought him the news and he gathered officers together sending them out to do something. I don't know but it doesn't feel good."

"We must have a conversation with Admiral Paris or the President before we go. A private conversation," Kolopak replied turning once more to take his place at the table as the meeting began to gather once more.

Chakotay nodded and turned, taking his place as well. It would take another four hours before they would adjourn and outside in the street people would begin to gather to see the participants as the news of the meeting began to make its rounds in the media outlets of the Federation and her allies.

**********Late that night ...

Tom sighed and turned over, feeling the bed moving as Chakotay climbed in. He shifted and turned, lying alongside Chakotay's fatigued and aching body. He kissed Chakotay's shoulder and the older man moved, pulling him into his body. "How'd it go?" Tom asked, his voice thick with sleepiness.

"The meetings were fine."

Chakotay stroked the soft skin of Tom's shoulder, tugging him to lie closer. Tom moved, settling into his usual place. "You're tense. What happened?"

Chakotay thought about the short meeting they had with Owen Paris and Keith Nolan, listening with gathering dread the latest developments.

"Blanchard is holding open hearings in the Council. He's having the crew of the Sorrell Bay brought in and they're going to be grilled by conservatives on the Armed Forces committee about what happened and their captivity."

"What is that supposed to do?" Tom asked raising his head slightly.

"Stir up opposition. It's evenly divided now, half and half. If they had a vote on any treaty or settlement that we negotiate now I think it would deadlock. We need to have more time and Blanchard's enemy is time."

Tom lay his head back down. "We can't lose this opportunity, Chakotay. We can't."

"I know," Chakotay replied.

It was silent for a moment and then Tom raised his head again. "There are always two sides to every story, Chakotay. My father used to say that all the time, unless of course, the story was mine." Tom grinned ruefully. "You need to tell your side. You need people to tell how it was out there and how the Maquis were their only defenders. That will counter-balance anything Blanchard does. It has to happen soon, before the only story in town is Blanchard's."

Chakotay nodded. "My father is already sending word back. Bey and Papa are working on that." Chakotay smiled slightly. "You're clairvoyant."

Tom grinned, his hand patting Chakotay's stomach. "I am aren't I."

"Can you read my mind?"

Tom considered his question a moment and grinned. "Not tonight, dear. I have a headache."

Chakotay grinned and pulled him close settling down into a restful position.

"Clairvoyant, that you are," he said softly. His mind was on a thousand details and he would have a very hard time getting to sleep but in the end he would. Tom would take longer filled as he was with the events of the day. They lay together in the cabin as down below them big events of history marched on.

=0=

Book Twenty-Six: Nuclear Winter (2/4)

=0=

"Please identify yourself for the record."

"Commander Geordi LeForge."

"And your last posting, Commander?"

"I was First Officer of the Sorrell Bay."

The cameras flashed and filmed as Commander LeForge sat by himself at a large table. Behind him, listening intently was both his lawyer, Commodore Sampson of the Judge Advocate General's office and Captain Jean-Luc Picard of Enterprise.

"Commander, will you tell us in your own words what happened to you on your last assignment with Sorrell Bay?"

A man asked questions, one of several men and women that sat at their own table flanked by aides, lawyers and flacks of all kinds. Some of the representatives there were hard-line conservatives, people aligned politically with the Vice President and some of them weren't. They were representatives of their particular constituencies who were members of the Armed Forces Committee and duty-bound to be there.

They had given their statements, each person speaking to their position and it was slightly in favor of the hard-liners when the tea leaves were all read. Now the hearings into the loss of the Sorrell Bay were begun in earnest with the hoped for outcome a hardening of public opinion against the peace negotiations.

Jake Sisko sat in the crowd listening hard to the news to come. He had finished his story, was aware that it would be released today. A fortunate synergy of fortune, he considered with a smile. He would cover this too, his editor giving him carte blanche to make stories about the entire situation. He had been impressed by the access and ingenuity Jake had already demonstrated and now Jake was his lead reporter on the events unfolding.

"The ship was on patrol along the DMZ searching for any Maquis activity along that dividing line between their territory and ours. There had been rumors of gun shipments and we were looking for runners."

"What happened at this point, Commander?" a pale face woman asked, herself aligned with the President. "Who was in command of the Sorrell Bay and what happened to her?"

"The commander of the Sorrell Bay was Captain Kathryn Janeway. She was formerly in command of the Voyager, now the Crazy Horse." He paused a moment. "We found a signature on our sensors that matched a specialized shuttle created on Voyager, the Delta Flyer. We knew it was Chakotay. We pursued it and found it speeding away from our territory and heading for its own." He paused, the images of that moment still jumbled. "The shuttle answered our hail and Janeway and Chakotay, the captain of the Voyager talked back and forth a moment or two."

"Let the record note that this is the same Chakotay who is currently a delegate for the Maquis at the peace talks being held a block away from this chamber. Now Commander, continue. What did they say?" Representative Healy a hard-liner asked.

"A number of things, mostly just the kind of thing you do say ... surrender or we'll open fire. Chakotay didn't. He turned and ran, heading for a small nebula near the DMZ. We left off on the convoy and followed them, Captain Janeway being hot to stop them from crossing over the DMZ."

"Then?" the pale woman asked the room silent as a tomb as everyone listened keenly, including several members of the Sorrell Bay yet to testify.

"They entered and we did too. It's a standard cloaking tactic. Of course, it means that both sides are blinded by the radiation. Your sensors are worthless inside a nebula but then that's why it's such a great evasive maneuver."

"At this point were there efforts by Janeway to forestall moving into the nebula? Is it a good idea to follow an enemy vessel into a nebula?" Healy asked.

"It's always a risk, a calculated risk to do this. It's standard procedure in the Star Fleet battle tactics manual and both sides knew that. Captain Chakotay was a First Officer himself, not just on Voyager when they came across the galaxy but before that when he was still with Star Fleet."

"Then we trained the knife that is being pressed against our neck," Healy ventured a sour look on his face.

LeForge looked at him. "I have no love for the Maquis but I am aware that Commander Chakotay was being short listed for dismissal due to his family connections to the Maquis. He wasn't a Maquis, his family was but he got tarred just the same."

"Just answer the question, Commander," Healy interjected.

"I have, Mr. Healy. Of course if you don't like the answer there's nothing I can do about that."

"Mr. LeForge, what happened next?" the pale woman asked a slight grin on her face.

"At this point, we were flying blind. Apparently, the Delta Flyer exited the same way they came and fired a burst at a small strand of plasma to cover their escape. They couldn't outrun us so they did the next best thing. Unfortunately for us, it ignited more plasma than they planned to torch and we were knocked senseless."

"How do you know that wasn't what they wanted to do in the first place?" Healy asked.

"Because they only wanted escape and an analysis of the blast radius led to that conclusion. If they wanted to blow us up, they would have fired farther in, not at a wisp on the edge."

"And then?" the woman asked.

"The plasma ignited and one of our nacelles was damaged. We were tossed around like rag dolls and our systems began to fry from surges along the line." He thought a moment. "We were dead in the water. I hurried to go to Engineering and when I got there the Maquis were already boarding the ship. They were taking everyone prisoner."

"Did they tell you that they were going to do that, did they give you a chance to surrender?" the woman asked again.

"They did. Captain Chakotay called the ship and told her that they wanted surrender. Captain Janeway refused and so the Maquis boarded us, taking us deck by deck. Resistance was futile."

"That's a Borg expression isn't it?" Healy asked.

"Yes. It's part of their assimilation message," LeForge replied.

"There's a Borg crewman on Voyager who is responsible for the cloaking devices that make Voyager and Sorrell Bay impossible for us to find," Healy began.

"We don't know that. There are elements of Borg technology in the make up of their cloaking devices. The frequencies oscillate in a manner reminiscent of Borg technology but we have no idea of who is responsible for it. It could be an amalgam of Voyager technology from the Delta and ideas from here. They have our database from Sorrell Bay and from Defiant. It's possible it was created here from a highbred technology format."

"What happened once you were captured?" the woman asked.

Picard watched the exchange with interest, his dislike for Healy growing by leaps and bounds.

"They took us to Voyag-, the Crazy Horse and gave our wounded medical attention. By then the Voyager had arrived from the Maquis side and they were beaming us over. The officers, Janeway included were locked in the Brig. They then turned back to their territory towing the Sorrell Bay behind them. She was venting plasma, listing to 45 degrees and her main systems were fried. A Maquis crew was on board stabilizing her for tow."

"What then?" Healy asked. "How were you treated? Were you mistreated?"

"No, we weren't. We were given immediate medical attention and transferred to a prison camp outside of their main town, Broken Tree. We were given prison overalls and kept in clean barracks. The food was passable and attempts were made to accommodate the dietary and religious needs of the prisoners. I never saw any mistreatment."

It was quiet a moment and Picard could see the consternation on the face of Healy and his allies. It was almost comical how clear it was, this divide in attitudes.

"We need to move on to other topics, Commander," Healy began picking up his thread again.

For over two hours, Geordi LeForge testified before the committee before they let him go for the day. He rose and turned, smiling slightly at Picard.

"Care for some dinner, Commander LeForge?" he asked, a slight smile of his own on his handsome face.

"I would be delighted," Geordi said with heartfelt emotion. "I would love that."

"Commodore?" Picard asked turning to Geordi's council.

"Count me in, Captain," he said sighing deeply. "Let's get out of here."

They turned and walked out moving through a sea of reporters and out to the sidewalk below. Beyond them, an ocean of people stood demonstrating outside of the Star Fleet HQ where the peace talks were just concluding. Thousands of people stood in groups, some for peace and some against. In smaller groups, standing silently and warily, a mixed number of aliens both human and otherwise watched. They were small in number now but they would be growing in size over the next two days. They were from the frontier, people who had suffered under Cardassian oppression and they were here to support the Maquis.

They were small in number now but in a day or two, they would swell into the thousands, brought in by freighter and liner, private vessel and commercial. They would flood the town adding their voices to the already tense mix. They would be here to support their side and to be heard.

Geordi and Jean-Luc stared at the mass of people, their sound and fury clearly heard this far away. They glanced at each other filled with disquiet at the sight and then they turned and walked away, the Commodore following. The night in San Francisco would be very tense.

**********Near the Presidio ...

They gathered together, the light of the moon sparkling on the bay beyond them. They were the committee that had been raised to bring people in from the rim. They had a multitude of tasks to do billeting people and organizing their welfare. They had coordinated with Crazy Horse using an channel that was encrypted so severely the Federation had never broken it. They were organizing the multitudes that were arriving every hour, people with their families, young men and women, old people and babies. They were all moving toward hotels that were purchased in block and campgrounds that would accommodate their numbers. It would be a tight fit but it wasn't something they hadn't done before. The committee was led by the Maquis in charge of Refugees.

Nearby, watching with interest a number of Star Fleet intelligence officers waited in the trees that lined the walkway. The Maquis seldom met inside a building, the fear of being overheard was too great. So they met here, coordinating their resources and people, making ends meet for the masses.

They were aware of the 'Fleet officers listening so they kept it to generalities. The news of where people would be billeted wasn't a security breach so they worked together in the beauty of their surroundings as elsewhere the sounds of nightlife gave a poignancy to their efforts. The world moved on in spite of them.

**********Crazy Horse ...

Chakotay left his father's cabin a thousand details whirling in his mind. He took the lift to his cabin and entered noting Tom at the desk. He grinned and nodded, heading for the bedroom and a shower. Tom watched him go and finished his message to his mother knowing fullwell that it would be intercepted and read.

/... Nothing to hang you, Tom my boy .../ he considered as he finished and sent it on its way. Rising, he stretched and walked into the bedroom, noting that Chakotay was in the bathroom soaking. He entered and smiled. "Nothing like a soak is there?"

Chakotay grinned and patted the side of the tub. "Join me."

Tom sighed and shook his head, pulling his shirt off over his head. He began to unfasten his pants, shoving them down. "You look good. You're filling out."

Tom shrugged good-naturedly. "It's getting there." He slipped out of his clothes and then stepped into the water, sitting down to face his lover. He sighed with contentment as Chakotay took a foot rubbing it with his fingers. "That feels *so* good," Tom sighed.

"I know," Chakotay replied.

"How did it go?"

"We're making headway. We have to make a list of things that we want debated in the Assembly. We're going to have our old representatives go as observers. Nolan is working out a coalition with Spock to bring in fence sitters. We might have a chance to begin something good. A ceasefire and a withdrawal by the Federation from the Rim looks like a done deal."

"They'll leave Dorvan and the other occupied worlds?"

"Seems like it," Chakotay replied, rubbing up along Tom's leg.

"Let me wash your back," Tom offered closing his eyes against the pleasure cruising through his veins.

"Pretty soon. Did you watch the hearings?"

"I did," Tom said, sighing. He looked at Chakotay. "It's weird hearing people talk about you like that. LeForge was even handed, I'll hand it to him. I was impressed. I don't know that I could be that fair if I was in his shoes."

Chakotay nodded. "Kathryn must be biting herself."

"Do you suppose that Liberty is watching this?"

"I told Tuvok that they were happening and he is sure to monitor the hearings. I can imagine that Kathryn will be too."

"Do you suppose it would do us any good to have her testify?" Tom asked noting Chakotay's expression.

He was silent for a moment. "I was considering discussing it with her."

"She's honest. She'd tell the truth. I guess it all comes down to embarrassment. She might be too embarrassed to speak."

Chakotay nodded. "I would be I think. Besides, they would have to subpoena her and I don't think they can. She's safe on the Liberty and no one can touch her."

"There were broadcasts about the Maquis people coming into town. There are a few hundred right now but they expect thousands. People are pouring in. The Federation wasn't going to give them permission but some lawyer here on Earth filed a writ. It appears that even though they no longer have Federation citizenship, they still are required to pay taxes and that makes it feasible for them to come. Sort of 'no taxation, no representation' in reverse."

"This is getting complicated, Tom."

"I know," Tom replied. "Let me rub your foot."

Chakotay shifted and Tom took his foot, rubbing it gently with his strong fingers. Chakotay lay back, closing his eyes and sighed. "That feels good."

"I know."

"You're good at that. Practice?"

"I've never had a complaint," Tom replied with a chuckle. "All my men have told me that."

"There you go again, spoiling the mood."

"I didn't know we had one," Tom replied a smirk in his voice.

Chakotay sat up and pulled Tom forward sitting him on his lap. He leaned in and kissed Tom hard on the mouth. "Of course we do. You're a slow learner, Paris."

"That's me, a slow learner," he replied kissing his lover on the lips. "Good thing I have a private tutor."

Chakotay grinned, leaning back, his hands gripping Tom's thighs. "Damned right."

Tom grinned. "What's the story for tomorrow?"

"More meetings. More boredom. More hopefulness."

"Sounds like 'same old, same old'."

"It is. The only thing that relieves the tedium is daydreaming about doing you on the table in the middle of the meeting."

Tom laughed aloud smiling at Chakotay with pleasure. "You are such an exhibitionist."

"Not really. I'd have to clear the room. But I'd like to do you on the table. It's huge."

"Maybe some day," Tom replied leaning forward. He nuzzled Chakotay's cheek and sighed. "I love you."

"I love you too," Chakotay replied his hands slowly sliding up the curve of Tom's back. "I love you so much."

Tom sat back staring at his lover with a look of such intensity that Chakotay swallowed.

"When this is all over, I want to go to your homeworld and see everything. I want to go everywhere you've been and see it all."

Chakotay nodded. "I'll take you there."

Tom nodded and sighed pulling Chakotay's hand into his. He kissed the palm and then each finger. Then he smiled. "Let me wash your back."

With a smile and a nod, Chakotay complied.

=0=

Book Twenty-Six: Nuclear Winter (3/4)

=0=

The next day dawned and the shifts changed, Maquis crew going to bed, waking up or going off duty. Maria fixed her husband's tea the way he liked it, watching as he ate his breakfast with her older sons. Tabor, smiling at a joke sat beside Nayib looking better than the day before. He had no memory of their earlier trauma, something for which she was thankful. Tabor was with her son and his feelings glowed on his face each time he looked at Nayib. She liked him, his quiet gentle ways soothing company in the tension of the past few days. She liked Bajorans, she liked their spirituality and the feeling that they had a lot in common, her traditional culture and theirs.

"More coffee, Tabor?" she asked, smiling as he looked at her.

He nodded, watching as she filled his cup. "Thank you, Mama," he said shyly. She had told him to call her that eschewing her given name for this latest addition to her family. From her conversation with Nayib over how he felt she knew that this one was going to be family. She was completely happy about it too.

The door opened and Chakotay walked in, Tom following behind. They greeted each other and settled on the couches waiting as the others finished their meal. "We better get the lead out. This is the last day of direct talks and it wouldn't pay to be late," Chakotay chided watching his brothers ignore him.

"Some of us take our eating seriously," Nayib replied his voice aloof and bemused. "Not like some I know."

"I don't have to chew as much. I don't eat dead animal flesh."

Nayib looked at his brother, a jaundiced eye considering Chakotay's smug superiority. He rose a strip of bacon in hand. Walking over, he leaned down and put it into his mouth. "Ummm. You don't know what you're missing. There's nothing like the fried flesh of fake animals."

Chakotay snorted and shoved him back, grinning at his brother's smug look. "I don't care if it hasn't been real for four hundred years. Energy or no, it's the principal of the thing," Chakotay replied.

Nayib shook his head. "You're a piece of work. You'll never know the total joy of eating a taco or a burrito."

"I'll live," Chakotay replied, smirking at his brother as he walked back to the table. Nayib knocked back his orange juice and held out his hand, pulling Tabor to his feet. "Catch you at the transporter in ten," he said turning and walking out the door with his partner.

Chakotay watched them go. "How's Tabor doing?"

"He's doing as well as expected. His memory has a gap when he was shot and he doesn't remember any of it," Maria replied. "I think he's grand company."

Chakotay grinned and rose, walking to the table to pick at the remains of the breakfast. "He is."

Tom watched them fascinated by the informal and affectionate interchanges. In his family, dinner was a more formal affair with catch up on the highlights of the day and an accounting of school foremost on the agenda. They didn't joke, at least he didn't with his father. Tom often joked with his mother trading quiet puns and asides with her as they sat nearly side-by-side. He had never had this kind of familial relationship and he enjoyed it as he sat nearby. Kolopak was a man of standards and morals but he was also a warm and friendly man who included others into the circle of his family as easily as some people said hello. That was an impressive characteristic to Tom, a characteristic that Chakotay had in less abundance.

Chakotay was quieter, taking more time to know someone before giving his personal side over to their access. He had been a long time in getting to know Chakotay as a man and Tom knew that if they hadn't of been lost in the Delta they would have never come together. Tom was more obviously outgoing than Chakotay but the Commander or, rather the Captain had a more secure self- image. Chakotay had never taken a side trip from the path that he had set himself on early in his life. They had both taken a path to the military but Chakotay had not been derailed.

Tom had been. Badly. Of course, part of the success of Chakotay's life was the security his family had given him. He had grown up in a family of six, the youngest to be sure but someone surrounded by people who obviously loved him and had given him their time and support. He himself had been the youngest too but the others, his sisters, they had been gone when he got old enough to really sense the loss of their company. It was sad he thought and he watched Chakotay interact with his family with an almost hungry longing. It must be wonderful to get unconditional love, he thought.

"I'm going to the Bridge. Call me when you're ready to go, okay?" Chakotay asked glancing at his father.

Kolopak nodded. "Give me about a half hour. I have to gather my notes."

Chakotay nodded. "Will do." He turned and looked at his lover. "Tom?"

Tom jolted out of his reverie and rose, moving to the door with Chakotay. They walked to the lift and entered, Chakotay calling the floor.

"What's up?" he asked eyeing Tom.

"What do you mean?"

"You're pensive."

Tom considered the question and sighed. "I was just thinking what a joy it must have been to have a family like yours, to be a part of a family that is so open and loving. My sisters left before I could really know them and my father was so strict. We never had mornings like this one with your family."

"Lift, halt," Chakotay called. It stopped and he turned to look at Tom. "I've been lucky, I know. I have a great family, Tom. I love them and they love me. But I have to tell you I was a rotten teenager and I thought that I had lost the last chance I could have had to make peace with my father. I was so hard headed. I regretted it when I was told that my father was dead. There was no second chance."

"But you had it and you're good together."

"That's true. It's a miracle, Tom. I can't describe it. I just felt so lost that I never apologized and I never had a chance to say goodbye. It's a miracle that we had a second chance. You have one too. Your father is trying to make it right between you. You'd be proud of him, Tom. He's a stand up man."

Tom looked at Chakotay, swallowing around the painful lump in his throat. Chakotay stepped closer, resting his hands on Tom's shoulders. "You can't change the past. I know that too. But you can make the present and the future better."

Tom nodded and stepped forward, embracing his lover tightly. "It's all so emotional now. There's so much going on. I hope it works out, Chakotay. I want to just sit and talk to my dad. I want to know what he thinks now, what he believes in. I want to know him."

Chakotay nodded. "I know. I hope so too. If it works, a large chunk of it is your father's efforts. You'd be so proud of him, Tom."

"I'm glad to hear that," Tom whispered, sighing deeply. "This is our last day to make things work. Tomorrow, Papa talks to the General Assembly. Then we go back and wait. It's in the hands of god, Tom, literally."

Tom smiled and looked at his lover. "It is isn't it."

"I think so," Chakotay said, a smile on his face. He leaned in and kissed Tom softly. "Lift, continue."

The lift moved on and when they got to the Bridge, they stepped off. Tom walked to the conn and looked things over. Chakotay walked to the Ready Room and made his contact with Tuvok. Things were going good. He noted that he had gotten a contact from the Vulcan Ambassador about the presence of T'Pel. He smiled and passed it on with a question. He asked Tuvok if he wanted her to transfer to the Liberty on their way back.

Turning, he walked back out and turned the ship over to Tom, moving to the lift and the transporter room beyond. In moments he was on the ground with his family, the sound of crowds shouting outside penetrating the marble walls of the building. He glanced at Owen Paris, who had come to meet him. He shrugged. "There's a group out there from around Earth and some from the Rim. There are thousands of people out there who hate you and support you."

Chakotay nodded, glancing at his father. "What's the security situation like?"

"There's a strong presence of both Star Fleet and city security," Owen replied.

"Good." Chakotay turned noting his brothers were moving toward the conference room deep in conversation with many of the delegates they had come to know over the past few days. He patted Owen's arm. "We better go. It might get interesting with the crowd outside."

Owen grinned briefly. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

Chakotay grinned back. "Who me?" he asked, moving along the corridor.

They walked along and entered the room, talking together for a moment or two before they all began to sit. For the next three hours, they would talk and barter, bargain and cajole. Outside, the world would be running on its own agenda.

**********Federation Network News HQ ...

Diane Jansen pushed the button and launched Jake Sisko's story. It would go out over the web, entering the daily news circulation of just about everyone in the Alpha quadrant. They were the biggest news company in the Federation and even heads of state got a lot of their information from them. She smiled. They had scooped the world, getting the inside story of the Maquis. No one had ever done that. No one had ever gotten that close. No one except *their* reporter. With a chuckle, she walked back to her office to await the fall out of destiny.

**********Crazy Horse, Ambassador's Cabin, somewhere on the way back home ... Jake Sisko, FNN

Part One:

It was my good fortune to be raised on a station at the edge of the Federation, on the edge of the beaten path. As a Star Fleet brat, you learned to step out and take chances. When the Crazy Horse pulled into Deep Space Nine it was an easy decision to make, getting myself smuggled onto the ship.

Of course, they needed me or I wouldn't have gotten on board to talk to the Commandant of the Maquis Revolutionary Council, Kolopak of Dorvan V. They had a story to tell and I was ready to hear it. Making a trek to Crazy Horse, going on board once she left DS9 under the pretext of having trouble with my runabout gave me the unique opportunity of speaking directly and at length with the Commandant and his adjutant, his oldest son, Beyvahl. This is their story.

He looks like a scholar, a teacher of history. He is. Or was before the war. He's a traditional man, a Native American with a large family and a deep interest in knowing the past as it applies to the present. When the Cardassians came he was off world. His father, a learned man and leader in his community made a deal with them, the only one he could short of leaving the world he loved and called home. They wouldn't defy the Cardassian's presence and the Cardassians would leave them alone.

For a while it even worked.

Then the Cardassians came with their demands and out of that moment, a movement was born. He would be its first leader, the one with the moral authority to bring all the disparate threads of the rim together. In the end, they would create a force that though it waxed and waned off and on over the past decade of war and eventual peace would be something to reckon with.

"We were forced to choose. Either we could stay and trust theCardassians to keep their word, something even the Federation never gave themselves over to or we could fight. They wanted our homes and our resources and in the end they began to take our lives."

The Council was born around the kitchen table of his home, a gathering place of diverse people and the intelligentsia of the frontier. An organization was born that would grow and become so well organized that the Federation would never be able to penetrate it above the individual cell level.

Kolopak, the emotional and spiritual father of the movement would not see it develop into the force that it would eventually become. He would be lost to them by a freak event that still brings strong emotional responses to the participants.

"We were heading for a meeting and found ourselves chased by a Cardassian battle cruiser. We hid out with friends and when the Cardassians found us we had only seconds to run for cover," Beyvahl explained.

A soft spoken lawyer, he is the oldest of Kolopak and Maria's six children, who also include their other two sons, Nayib, an engineer, Chakotay, a former Star Fleet officer and First Officer of the USS Voyager and three daughters, Khola, Neera and Layla.

"They were chasing us and we ran for a shuttle, clambering aboard as best we could. My father was behind me running. I turned to grab his hand but the Cardassians had caught up to him. I tried to jump out ..."

For a moment, he couldn't go one and then he did.

"For a moment I thought I could reach him and then the shuttle rose up, moving away. All I could see was my father surrounded by Cardies and us leaving. I was so desperate to save him I tried to jump out but the others held me. We left and it took a long time for me to get that image out of every waking thought that I had."

"You took over the Maquis, becoming Commandant," Nayib finishes, his dark eyes ever watchful. He was called from the field where he was working as an independent operative and took over part of the burden of leadership until his brother found his equilibrium.

"It was so hard," Beyvahl continued. "I just wanted to die. My father was with the Cardassians and all I could imagine was him dying in agony."

"They were surprisingly courteous," Kolopak interjects. "They wanted to keep me in good shape for a prisoner exchange."

"They traded you to the Federation for mass murderers including Gul Delanth," Nayib adds his face filled with disgust.

"They did," Kolopak agreed. "They put me in a prison that no one had heard of, a special Maquis prison that was located in Arizona. I was there for nine years. They told my family and everyone else that the Cardassians had killed me."

For a moment, they all sat silently. Then Nayib rose and walked to the window. "Nine years. We've been at this ten or twelve years," he said softly.

"Do you really think that you'll find the peace here?" I asked.

"We have to," Kolopak replied. "We have to find a way to make the peace. We have to make sure that the fighting ends. We want peace but not at all costs. We have legitimate grievances from the past and then there's the issue of trust. We have to believe that we can trust you."

That might run both ways I remind him. He looks at me thoughtfully and nods.

"Yes, that's true. We've both done things that sully our honor, as has the Federation. We both haven't exactly covered ourselves in glory but we have the biggest burden to bear. Your worlds weren't destroyed and your families weren't decimated. You could go to bed at night in the house that you chose on the land that was still yours. You didn't have to worry that you would be killed in your sleep.

"I remember talking to a Federation official about what to do. He said we would be relocated. All of the frontier would be relocated that existed on the wrong side of the DMZ. I looked at him, at this man who had lived all his life on the home world of his ancestors and it took all I had not to strike him.

"His world was the ancestral home of his species. It was the place where his people came to their cultures and senses. The stars above them were the same stars his ancestors saw when they looked up. The graves of his family, the sacred places of his culture, the animals, birds, fish and plants of his native heritage were all there, safe and sound. Yet, he expected me to leave my own world, all the same things ... just like it was something you do just like that.

"How could I go away from the land that held my father's bones and leave the sky that I loved, the water and trees, the rhythms of my world? How could I do that and how could I ask that of my children? It's their inheritance from my father and me. They deserved it. They earned it. It was not mine to give away or leave.

"If you can't understand our motivation to stay and fight for what was ours then consider having to leave Earth with only the things that you could carry. Consider leaving the graves of your fathers and the blue sky of your mother behind. Could you do it? Would you? What would you be ready to fight for and would you?"

Would you indeed ...

**********Late afternoon in San Francisco ...

No one knew who threw the first bottle. They only knew that someone did. The melee that broke out on the steps of the Federation High Council spread like a wild fire and by the time it reached the outer edge of the crowd a fullscale riot was underway.

=0=

Book Twenty-Six: Nuclear Winter (4/4)

=0=

Star Fleet Command Headquarters, San Francisco ...

They stood by a window and stared out, watching a swirling tide of humanity ebb and flow four stories below. The crowd pushed and was pushed as the melee continued, small knots of people fighting each other as they battled in the cramped space around the entrance of Star Fleet Headquarters.

Bey looked to the right watching as truck loads of reinforcements arrived augmenting the already formidable forces that stood three deep in riot gear around the entrance to the building. He watched as two men pummeled one, their arms flailing against their lone victim as he ducked his head warding off most of the blows with his raised arms. Two other men lunged forward to rescue him and they all went down in a kicking screaming mass.

A siren could be heard in the distance as the city sent more reinforcements into the freeforall. They watched as heavily shielded police began to march on the crowd, the rock throwing and shouting masses slowly giving way before their discipline and force. Soon they were out of sight and the delegates turned, their faces grave.

"This is untenable," Blanchard said, his voice hard with fury.

"This is inevitable," Kolopak replied meeting Blanchard's stare with his own even gaze. "What do you expect when you feed them only one side of the story?"

"There *is* only one side," Blanchard hissed his face flushing. Nearby, watching quietly the other delegates considered the two men, each implacable in their points of view. Neither man showed any signs of backing down from their positions either.

"That's an impossible point of view to hold, Mr. Vice President. If that is the point of view that prevails then not only are youdoing your people a disservice you're condemning them to war."

Blanchard turned. "If you want war you can have it."

"And are you ready to go to the forward lines and pick up a phaser? Are you ready to send your three children to the front?"

They turned noting the small figure of the Bajoran ambassador before them. She stared at them, a stare that spoke volumes for the anger that coursed through her. "Are you, Mr. Vice President prepared to lose your children over your political beliefs? Unless you are ready to do so then you have no right to impose your personal prejudices upon the rest of us. I for one am tired of seeing Bajoran men and women die for the ego rages of others."

"Ambassador, you have to admit that the Maquis are murderers,"Blanchard began.

"*I* don't have to admit to *anything*. My people have paid a steep price for your kind of thinking too. War is someone else's dirty business. You just sit here safely behind the lines and dream up death for others. How dare you? How dare you believe that war is an acceptable course of action when we are here to talk to each other about peace. You never came here prepared to do that. You came here to vent your anger, your rage ... what price have you paid in the war that matches what the rest of us have suffered?" she demanded.

The room was silent as they waited for Blanchard's answer. He looked at her and the others around him and then cleared his throat. "I represent a constituency that demands that I make sure we don't sell out. The Federation must be preserved."

"The Federation is its people. The Federation is the people do you understand? We must find our way to a solution that makes it possible for all of us to co-exist. I don't want vengeance. I am *sick* of vengeance. I don't want to be the architect of failure. I don't want to walk away from this chance to make real peace and have to tell my people that we failed because we hated too much to love our children. The Maquis have their own truths to bear, their own moral failures but so do we. We have them too. For you to assume that they should pay and pay and pay shows a failure on your part to be the man your constituents deserve. You are not siezing the moment to find a way to the future. You're the past, Mr. Blanchard and I for one will not let you prevail."

"You would vote to give them a place at the table? You would forget the atrocities that they committed during the war?" Blanchard asked his voice rising with incredulity.

"Don't *speak* to me of atrocities. I lost four children to the Cardassians. I too picked up a gun and joined the underground to fight them when it was clear that no one else was going to come and help us. It was *inconvenient*, too difficult. We were left to our own devices and we chose to fight. I see little difference in the choices that the people of the frontier had and if you can't see that then I feel sorry for you."

"You feel sorry for me?" Blanchard queried, his voice thick with condescension.

"Yes," she replied evenly. "I feel sorry for you because you have no shame. You aren't here to represent any point of view but your own. You want vengeance pure and simple and I'm here to tell you over the course of these talks it has become clear to me that to follow your course of action would be to invite disaster. I therefore am asking the Maquis to consider a political entity of their own consisting of the frontier planets and all other non-aligned entities. I would propose to my government that we ally ourselves with such an entity should they propose a constitution that meets civilized commonly held conventions such as are contained in the Federation Charter, the Federation Constitution and all the protocols that are in force to bind our divergent and diverse cultures together." She turned to Kolopak, who was listening intensely. "I would appreciate your thoughts on such an idea, Commandant. I think it would be a way to ensure that peace can be achieved and that people will be in place to ensure that all sides have the right to protection and advancement." She turned back to Blanchard. "The time for vengeance is over. The Bajoran government will not support anything that is detrimental to the real progress that we all crave."

Blanchard stared at her and then the others. "Is that the way you all feel?"

No one spoke for a moment and then the Klingon Ambassador stepped forward. "There are Klingons living on the rim. We would be hard pressed to support a plan that would subject them to any more hardship. There are Klingons in the Maquis that stood up for their warrior principles. We could hardly say that this is wrong. The time for talks has come, Blanchard. It's time for you to listen to someone else for a change."

Blanchard stared at the big man and then at the others. Without a word, he turned and walked out the door. It was silent for a moment and then the Bajoran Ambassador turned back to Kolopak. "We have an obligation to peace and to our people's future. Do not believe that we will allow anything to happen. Just know that we will talk until everyone is satisfied, if not at this meeting, then at the next and the next."

Kolopak extended his hand. "You are wise," he said his voice husky. "Your words are generous and filled with wisdom. I will take what you say and consider it. It would eliminate a lot of problems. There is no reason to believe that we can't be allies, no matter which way this coin falls. We are after all from the same beginnings."

She smiled and nodded. "Consider it." She turned and looked at the others. "We have no more days to meet. However, I think another round is in order. I propose that you come together on Bajor in two weeks. We can sit and discuss what we have begun here. I for one believe that two political entities, each with close ties to the other is the way to go."

Keith Nolan nodded. "I agree with the Ambassador. We need to explore the possibilities."

"Your situation here is not assured," Kolopak replied noting the others around him. "Blanchard-"

"Blanchard be damned. We have to do what is necessary to ensure that the talks continue. We have an obligation to make sure that all the avenues for peace with honor are explored. The alternative is too terrible for us to just give up."

"Agreed," the Klingon Ambassador replied.

"Agreed," Ambassador Spock said his calm voice soothing in the emotional charge of the moment. "I will relay the decision ofthis gathering to my government. I agree with the Bajoran Ambassador. As long as we talk, the guns are silent. If we implement the preliminary decisions of this gathering it will lower the danger of shooting breaking out."

Kolopak nodded. "I agree."

"Then we will meet on Bajor in two weeks. Is that an acceptable motion?"

The delegates nodded, murmurs of agreement rising among them. The Andorian Ambassador stepped forward. "I agree with the idea. I also have many reservations about any final agreements between us. As long as we come to the table with ideas and our questions, as long as the conversation will allow all ideas and concerns to be brought forward, we will be there."

"Agreed," the Klingon Ambassador replied. "Open and direct, that's what it must be."

"Agreed," Kolopak replied nodding to the delegates. "That's all we hoped for."

"Very well," Nolan replied, looking around. "Then I believe this meeting can be adjourned. I suggest that the Maquis delegation beam out of here to their ship. I don't think that we're going tobe going out the front door any time soon."

Kolopak smiled. "Lovely suggestion."

They talked together for a few more moments and then the Maquis beamed out, leaving everyone else behind. The Bajoran Ambassador turned to Nolan, a thoughtful look on her face. "Blanchard will not give up. This is our process to lose. I don't like losing, Mr. President. Will you be firm and stand firm?"

"Yes," Nolan sighed. "We can't give up this historical opportunity for peace."

"Good," she replied as they both turned and followed other delegates out of the room. "That's all I wanted to hear."

**********Later that night ...

"This is a real turn in the process," Tom said sipping his beer."Who would have thought?"

"I know. I think people just hate Blanchard that much. You can't control what others are going to think and to believe that aliens would think the way you do is to make a noose for your own neck. The Bajoran Ambassador is fed up. She can't see us going back into the Federation and I don't think I can either."

"What do you suppose it will all mean?"

"A new political organization is going to be born. She let the genie out of the bottle and I don't see it going back in."

Tom sighed. "It will be weird not being a citizen of the Federation."

"We haven't been since '73."

"I know," Tom replied, stretching out his long legs. Chakotay, sitting next to him, put his own feet up on the coffee table too. He entwined his fingers in Tom's, squeezing Tom's hand. "Your father didn't say a word. It may take him a bit of time to assimilate the possibility of this."

"It'll take *me* time to assimilate it. I didn't grow up on the frontier. I've lived at ground zero all my life."

hakotay smiled. "Well, welcome to the toolies."

Tom snorted turning his head to smile at his partner. "Ah, the toolies. The place where the cow flop meets the road."

"What would you know about cow flop?" Chakotay asked a grin on his face.

"I used to visit my grandparents in Georgia. They kept cows and sheep."

"You actually know how to live on a farm?" Chakotay asked mildly surprised.

"Sort of. I didn't have to do the chicken coop or whatever. I did step in cow flop once in a while."

"You did did you ..." Chakotay replied a smile on his face.

"Yeah. My cousins told me to take my shoes off and step in it when it was warm. I did."

"Nice isn't it."

"After the initial ickiness, yes," Tom replied with a chuckle. "I thought my mother would kill me the first time I can home with crappy feet."

"My mom too. It must be a mother thing," Chakotay agreed amiably.

"Of course, she told me about when *she* used to do it as a girl. It sort of made her more real to me. Ten year olds, what do they know?"

Chakotay snickered and glanced at his partner. "Yeah. What would they know?"

They sat together silently and companionably, sipping beer and holding hands.

"Chakotay?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't know what's coming but I'm glad to be with you when it does."

"Me too, Tom," Chakotay replied squeezing Tom's hand. "Maybe something good will come out of the Delta thing. Maybe Voyager can show them all how to get along."

Tom considered that a moment and turned his head. "I thought it was the best years of my life in some ways."

Chakotay nodded and grinned. "That's because you didn't know you loved me yet. The best years are coming."

Tom snorted and grinned, that smart ass smirk of his.

"Okay," he replied jauntily. "I'll hold you to it."

Chakotay only smiled.

=0= tbc c2001/2010


	27. Chapter 27

=0=

Nuclear Winter Book 27 (1/3 plus epilogue)

=0=

She stood by the window rubbing her arm. It was sore, a souvenir from the melee of the day before. She and her husband had gone to San Francisco pulled by an intense desire for peace. They had stood with other parents and family members of Voyager and the Sorrell Bay, mute witnesses of their pain and sorrow as they watched near the steps of Star Fleet Headquarters.

The tension was intense. There were many people who were there to support the hardliners. There was also a great deal that gathered to support the Maquis. That didn't count the people who had come to gawk or to find adventure in the emotion of the moment.

The bottles had flown and then there was shoving and shouting. The crowd shifted like something alive and she had lost her footing, falling onto her side. Her husband grabbed her arm and pulled her up, the two of them moving back as the fighting began in earnest.

Like something cathartic, the two sides began to brawl and the sound of sirens began to fill the air. They had turned and moved away, shaken and distraught as the security of the Federation began to seek the upper hand. The ride home was silent and they had retired into their home for a day to gather themselves together.

She turned and noted her husband sitting on the couch, studying a map of the city of San Francisco. Behind her the sun was setting, the lapping waves of the ocean balm to her frazzled nerves. They would go back the next day and try again to find out what they could do to bring home their son.

As she stood there she didn't see a figure walking along the boardwalk that meandered along the bottom of the slope behind their house. He was a dark figure and he walked like he knew where he was going. She turned and finally noticed him, watching as he slowed and finally stopped just sort of their property.

She stared at him, noting his form and leaned forward, straining her eyes through the gathering gloom. "Hello," she called, waiting for him to speak.

He didn't, shifting from foot to foot as he stood silently. Then he continued on, crossing the line onto their property and walking like he was going to climb the few steps that led to the deck where she stood.

She stood straighter, alarm filling her and she turned, calling to her husband. He rose and hurried to her side, watching as the figure came closer. He slipped his arm around his wife's waist and cleared his throat.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he called out, noting that the figure kept coming.

Closer he came and then the light from the window behind them flashed over him. They stood silently, stilled by the sight before them and then she raised her hands to her face.

"You came back to us," she whispered, tears filling her eyes as she took in the emotional face of her only son.

Harry Kim covered the few remaining feet between them, engulfing his mother and father in his arms. He was taller than them, the two older people swallowed in the enormity of his hug. They stood together, clinging to each other and then Harry sighed, stepping back. "I saw you on the news feed. I saw you fall down, mother. Are you all right?" he asked, his voice filled with anxiety.

She stared at him, overcome to the depths of her soul and nodded. "I'm fine," she whispered as he touched him, his face, his chest and his face again. "I'm fine."

Harry's father stood silently, his face filled with unspeakable emotion. He watched his wife and son together and felt a tearing shard of pain fill him. It was over. It was all over. Harry had come home at last.

"Come in," he said, gathering his tattered heart together. "Come in, Harry. We missed you."

"I missed you too," Harry replied, sniffling back tears. "I can't believe that I'm home, that you're here."

"Come in," his mother replied. "Come in and let me take care of you. I promised myself when you came home that I would have your favorite food ready. Come in and let me fix you something to eat."

Harry's father smiled, watching as his wife ushered her son inside. They would all sit down, bowls before him and they would sit and watch him eat. They would fill him with food and watch him as he ate and when it was all over, they would sit together and talk all night. By the morning, little would remain unspoken between them.

**********Broken Tree, Maquis Home World ...

Sunshine. It had finally come back to them and they were glad. It had rained for days and the dampness was invading everything and every place. She sighed and rose, walking to the window. She threw open the tall glass panes, filling her lungs with the fresh sea air. It reminded her of home, of the beauty of her seaside home town. She stood there, longing tosee it again and made up her mind that if the talks went well, she would be allowed to return.

Turning, feeling refreshed, she walked to the bathroom to begin her toilet. Down on the street below, standing under an awning, someone watched with intensity. Someone saw her in the window and was once again transported out of reality. She did that for him, with her exotic beauty and her infinite patience and as he stood watching, Samuel knew there was nothing he would do for her. Nothing.

**********Crazy Horse ...

They walked together, each of them impeccably dressed, their dark hair combed and their eyes level. Beyvahl, Nayib, Chakotay, Maria, and Tom flanked Kolopak as they walked to the transporter that would take them one last time down to San Francisco. They entered the transporter room, nodding to the chief. One by one they stepped up, taking a place on the pad. Tom watched them, hugging Chakotay before he too turned and walked away. They would be going to the Federation High Council Chamber to talk about the peace and the hopes for a mutually beneficial settlement to the war that gripped them still.

Today, Kolopak would be speaking to the people who once were his countrymen, in a town in a country that once was his ancestral home, about things that mattered to every one. He knew a lot of what came about with their image among the mass of Federation citizens would hingeon what he had to say and how he said it.

He had not asked for advice or counsel, drawing up his remarks on his own. They were in his head, memorized against the short few minutes he would be speaking. They were organized and ready, just as he was as the deceptively calm man stood quietly. He glanced at Chakotay and the Captain nodded to his chief. Watching Tom's face, Chakotay could feel himself dematerialize and then he was gone, sent through space to the planet below. Tom stared at his space, the empty place where his lover was and then turned, walking quietly out of the room. The ship was his until everyone returned and he gave his mind over to that responsibility. Of course, he would be watching the speech along with everyone else on board. He would do it on the main view screen of the ship.

**********Maquis Nights, Part Two By Jake Sisko, FNN ...

The ship, Crazy Horse -formerly Voyager- is manned by Maquis crew now. It's an odd thing walking along the corridors of an obviously Star Fleet ship and see only the "enemy" on all sides. But then this is no ordinary ship. This is Voyager, an Intrepid-class ship-of-the-line that was lost ten years ago in the Badlands. They were hunting the Maquis cell headed by its current captain, Chakotay. It would be erroneous to assume that everyone you pass is Maquis born and bred. A number of them, more than you can imagine are Star Fleet. Ten years before, Voyager had been taken by an alien transporter to the Delta Quadrant. Seventy-thousand light years and the entire and unknown vastness of the galaxy lie between them and home. In the middle of their dilemma the Maquis ship, Crazy Horse was also discovered.

Both ships shared the same misfortune. Both ships were faced with the same dilemma. Both ships did the only thing they could. They banded together when it was necessary to destroy the alien array that had brought them to the Delta. They destroyed it to save a race that would have been harmed if it had not been eliminated as a threat to their existence.

It was at that moment they did something no one else has been able to accomplish in the Federation at the time and since. They banded together to return. It was never assured. It was never a given. The odds against their survival were astronomical. In truth, it would take longer than most of the crew would be able to live to return unless there was nearly divine intervention.

And there was, of a nature.

They put aside their differences and learned to work together to solve the problems facing them and they made it work capitalizing on opportunities until they were able to send a message to the Federation letting us know they were there. What a journey it must have been. To be lost that far from home and be alone was bad enough. That they had to cross the Borg Homeland, the dark and empty expanses of the void, to cross the home territory of many and varied unknown species … that was the trick. It would have never happened without teamwork and the attention to the process that this crew was able to give.

Under the leadership of Captain Kathryn Janeway of Star Fleet and Chakotay of the Maquis they were able to pull it off. They were able to return together. Unfortunately, that was when all the truly bad things began to happen.

Q. "When you were told that the Federation knew you were coming and they sent you maps to a stable wormhole that exited into the Alpha Quadrant what did you think? What did you do?"

Kathryn Janeway speaking through subspace encrypted radio from the Maquis battle cruiser Liberty -formerly the USS Sorrell Bay- as per agreement with Commandant Kolopak of the Maquis Revolutionary Council "I was elated and afraid. I knew that half of my crew was vulnerable. I knew that at least three of them, Tom Paris, Seven of Nine and Chakotay would be subject to Federation custody conditions. So I tried to make it clear with records and logs that they had earned their freedom the same as the rest of us. What I hadn't counted on was the fractured and competitive nature of the politics here in the Federation."

Q. "You made an attempt to make sure that the crew would be able to leave Voyager for their families and that they would be free to go without retribution. What happened and when did you know that it wasn't to be?"

KJ: "I had no idea that there would be a sorting out of the crew and that all of the people who were on the ship would be shipped away to prison on Earth. I was told by Star Fleet that the Federation was going to stand down the ship and let the people go to their homes and families."

Q. "The insurrection on board led by Commander Tuvok of Vulcan and Chakotay was a surprise to you."

KJ: long pause "It was. There was an implanted message that was activated by a letter sent to us over the array. It was put into the Maquis members without their knowledge by a Vedek from Bajor. They were able to organize without our knowledge and by the time we knew it was too late to take the ship back. Before that we were a team, one body, one mind."

Q. "It must have devastated you."

KJ: "I'd prefer not to discuss it."

Q. "You were taken off with the crew members that wanted to go, let go by the Maquis before they left for the Maquis homeland. Were you aware that they would be going off to prison?"

KJ: "No. That was astonishing to me. I had told them and was assured by the people in charge that they would be going home to their families. I found out otherwise when I returned to the DMZ with Sorrell Bay."

Q. "Which side are you on? Are you Maquis now?"

KJ: long pause "I was on my side when this started, after I found out what was the truth about Voyager and her crew. I didn't trust anyone. I was a part of the prison breakout that freed Kolopak and the others. At this point in time, my sympathies lie with the Maquis not because of the politics but because of the betrayal. We came home to circumstances that were presented falsely. If you know anything about me, you will know that lying to me is the worst sin. Hurting my crew is the unpardonable crime."

Q. "What will you do now?"

KJ: "I don't know. I don't know what I believe anymore. I just know that when I'm with my crew, I'm home. We got lost together. We'll come home together. If that isn't meant to be then I'm not coming home either. Not ever."

*****Federation High Council Chamber, San Francisco ...

He stood in the doorway, the huge room before him bursting at the seams with people and cameras. He felt set apart, somehow emotionally separated from the masses that stared at them. They were on another plane, another dimension and he was here standing alone against his enemies singing his death song as he prepared to count coup. Behind and beside him, family and friends stood. They were his rock and he could feel their silent strength. He could feel Sek's calm gaze, Maria's impassioned fire and the multitude of people who had come to depend upon his wisdom and his power. It all fell to him.

He stepped forward into the huge open space that led to the speaker's podium. There were catcalls and applause, there were shouts and there was silence. The hardliners were easy to pick out. They made their presence known. The supporters were equally easy to spot. It was the mass of people who had not made their positions known that was harder to decipher.

Oddly enough, he didn't care. He had his chance to articulate the agony of millions and he had them in mind as he composed himself before the crowd. He looked at them waiting, his dark eyes looking from tier to tier. They settled restlessly, slowly but surely calming themselves. In a moment it was silent, as still as a tomb and Kolopak smiled. It was his turn now.

**********Crazy Horse ...

Tom sat in Chakotay's chair somewhat comforted by the contact. He chewed on his thumbnail shifting in his seat with tension. It was silent on the screen before him as he watched Kolopak gather his thoughts. He had seen the camera pan over his father, the Admiral standing tensely with the rest of the Maquis delegation including Chakotay.

President Nolan had spoken talking of the time when war could be had no more. He spoke of the need for people to look past old hates, to try to fashion a new future together. Then he turned to Kolopak.

"My friends and neighbors, my former citizens, I come here today to speak of a new way. For the past few years we have all struggled with the aftermath of war. For those of us most directly affected by war, we feel differently than those of you who live in safer zones and more protected shoals.

"My own planet is Dorvan V. It was the place where I was born, my father and my grandfather too. We all grew up there loving its skies and fields, its oceans and mountains, all of the same places that define home for you where you live.

"Then the Cardassians came. A deal was brokered by the Federation and the Cardassians in which it was decided that the Cardassians would not interfere with us and we wouldn't interfere with them. Of course, all sides signed and all went away. We all had our hopes but they weren't to be. The Cardassians came and we suffered. Out of that suffering the Maquis were born. They were our response to pain.

"Your response? The Federation-Star Fleet response? You cut your ties of obligation and citizenship with us and let us go. You walked away from your obligation and for millions of us there was only death and slavery.

"Of course you told us you would relocate us to other worlds. You told us there were other places to go. Where, I ask you? Where could we go that would be home for us? How could we leave the worlds that were our mothers for other places?

"My family is buried on Dorvan V. My children grew up there. I have worked the soil of my own farm and watched the animals roam the land around us. The birds that wake us up every day with their singing are the same ones that greeted us centuries ago when we first arrived. How could we leave that behind?

"What would we take? Would we take only what we could carry? We were given a period of a few weeks to pack up and leave. What do we leave behind? Our homes we built with our own two hands? Our pets and farms? Our businesses? What about the graves of our ancestors? What about the holy places, the intangibles that make life worth living? What about that?"

There was a long pause as Kolopak gathered his thoughts. The camera roved over everyone, the faces of the delegates reflecting all kinds of emotions. Blanchard was seen whispering to someone on his left and the camera cut back to Admiral Paris and the Maquis.

"Ask yourself this question: what would you do given the same circumstances, given the same demands? Give yourself two weeks and ask yourself, what would you take with you from Earth? From Vulcan? What would you have to leave behind?

"There are those who say, "You could leave Dorvan V. You can always start over?" That's arrogance of the worst kind. It says our world, our homes and needs are of less value than say, Earth. Why? Because you lived here longer than we have on Dorvan or the other worlds under an abandonment order? Is that the measure of your rights as a Federation citizen? I was under no awareness that there would be such a division of priority in the worthiness of our people until the Cardassians came.

"Then we found out. We found out the hard way that there was.

=0=

Nuclear Winter Book 27 (2/3 plus epilogue)

=0=

The camera panned to Blanchard again and he sat, his arms folded over his chest a hard look on his face. Kolopak began once more. "We had no idea when we paid our taxes and sent our sons and daughters to military service that it would be to protect only certain planets and certain populations. We had no idea that when we did our community service, voted in elections and sold our resources to Federation businesses that when the time came for something back we weren't high enough on the priority list to rate an intervention.

"We thought we were citizens of equal status to anyone in the Federation. We thought our tax dollars amounted to the same as anyone else's. We thought our children were standing in the service for us, for their homes, for their own worlds. Little did we know that when it came time for the Federation to fulfill its obligation to us, they wouldn't.

"Appeasement is a dirty word. Few of us along the rim, those of us from the frontier misunderstand what Federation policy with the Cardassians was in the beginning. Give them a little, the barbarians and then they'll be satisfied. But that isn't the way tyranny works. You can never satisfy aggression with appeasement. Giving an inch makes a hunger in the other for a mile. You fed your own path to war when you capitulated us away to the enemy.

"There are those who will tell you otherwise. They will tell you that they did what they had to do at the time. Those people are blinded. They didn't learn from history and so because of their cowardice we were doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past. And repeat them we did.

"Of course, those who paid the greatest price were the people of the rim, those who had thought they were citizens but found out that they weren't. We were taxpayers, voters, obeying Federation laws but in the end, we were not citizens. Not the same way you are, you people of the inner planets, you people who live on worlds in cultures that are higher on the priority list.

"You would *lose* something if you abandoned Earth. What would you lose? Your homes and culture, your trees and ecosystems, your mountains and holy places ... you would lose the graves of your ancestors and the familiarity of a place that you love. We would have too had we left but we were someone different, *less important* rather than equally important.

"We could have suffered and died becoming slaves and corpses but we chose to fight. We gathered together and fought them. When they were vanquished, you turned on us and we were forced to fight you too. It wasn't enough that it was over. Someone had to pay the full price. We who had lost everything were the only game in town." He paused and considered his words. "When Voyager came back from the Delta Quadrant it was a miracle. They had accomplished a miracle. They had done it together, Maquis and 'Fleet. What happened to them you might ask after this miracle was accomplished? They were gathered up, those that would leave the ship and they were transported to Earth, to a secret prison to be stored away and forgotten.

"I was there too. I was exchanged in Federation-Cardassian prisoner transfers early on for mass murderers like Gul Delanth and others. I was taken to New Mexico and for the next nine years, I would languish in prison. The world and all that knew me would be told by the Federation that I was dead. And so it would have remained but for Voyager.

"What does this have to do with you, you may ask? Everything. If you can't believe your leaders, if you can't trust that the words you share in the charters and treaties that bind us are for each of us equally then the social compact is broken. We had no other choice but to lift up arms and defend ourselves. No one was coming to help us, not the Star Fleet ships our tax dollars helped pay for, not the soldiers that included our own children for generations, not anyone.

"We had to go it alone. And now when it's all over you still feel the need to punish. You still feel the need to attack and gnaw on our bones. You can't admit that because you abandoned us this came to be. Ask yourself some questions ... if they came for Earth and you were given two weeks to pack up and go would you?" It was silent in the vast room. "Would you?" he asked again his voice echoing in the silent room. "Ask yourself this: how could anyone ask you to?"

He stood quietly and then he sighed, the soft sound echoing over the speaker system. "We were once your brothers and sisters and neighbors and countrymen. We were once on your side but you cut us loose and that is a pain that never goes away. There were bad things on both sides. We have the graveyards to prove it to be true. We have the empty places at our tables.

"But the time comes when the swords must be turned into plowshares and we must work at war no more. There are some among you sitting here today for whom there is no other way than the vengeance of war. I feel sorry for them, these dogs of war. I feel for their deep and abiding godlessness. For the rest of us, we must look at our grandchildren carefully and ask ourselves what we will be leaving them.

"The Bajorans can tell you stories. So can the people of the rim. If you want revenge we will continue to fight you to protect the people who have suffered the ravages of Federation cowardice the most. If you're ready for peace we will meet you half way. But we will do it as equals.

"A wise man Emeliano Zapata once said, "It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees as a slave." That is what we feel here in our hearts. We have always stood on our own two feet to defend our homes and our families. We can defy you as long as you seek our death. But we are prepared to seek the peace, a peace with honor that will allow our children to think about the possibility of a future once more.

"We know our own minds. Now it's up to you." He turned and gazed at his family and the others standing at the door to the chamber. "Your President, Mr. Nolan, he's a brave man. He's a man of honor because he seeks the hard thing, the right and elusive thing. He seeks peace with honor. The others among you who would make the war ... it's easy to do that with someone else's son and daughter. Consider the truly hard thing. Make peace for the good of all."

Kolopak looked at the crowd and then nodded turning and walking off the podium. For a moment the crowd was silent and then clapping began. It was strong in some quarters and polite in others but it filled the room and broke the tension. Gathered by his family, Kolopak of Dorvan V turned and left the room for Crazy Horse.

**********Bridge, Crazy Horse ...

Tom watched as they walked away and then listened to the commentary that followed. The speakers were interested in a number of things. They spoke of Kolopak's overtures of peace but also mentioned how they were couched in the demand for equality and mutual forgiveness. They spoke of his acknowledgement of crimes on both sides and his willingness to pick up the tattered threads between the rim and the rest of the Federation and move on.

The tone was discussed, the demand by Kolopak that people consider their plight in a newer and more personal light. The idea of continuing if vengeance was the Federation's position was also discussed, including the hardliners who jostled for position afterward with the press alongside the peace delegates and those who would swing any vote taken.

Tom rose and turned the Bridge over to Greg Ayala, hurrying to the lift. He rode it to the transporter room and waited there pacing back and forth. Eventually transporter hummed and they began to materialize. Chakotay stepped down and Tom embraced him tightly. They held each other and then Tom relented, turning to Kolopak. "You gave a great speech. I hope someone listened."

"I do too," Kolopak replied. He turned and took Maria's hand. "I'm famished."

"We'll meet you at the Mess Hall," Bey said watching as his parents walked out the door. He turned to Tom. "What do you think?"

"Good speech. I wonder how much shame any of us are capable of though. Maybe war fatigue will help us. Your father came across as strong and determined. That might make people think twice of carrying on the battle," Tom said his voice hopeful.

"I hope so too," Chakotay sighed slipping his arm around Tom and pulling him close. "Let's eat. I feel like sitting down."

Tom looked at Chakotay's pale face and nodded. "I think war is easier than this."

"I'm inclined to agree," Chakotay said moving toward the door.

They all rode to the Mess Hall, joined on the way by Tabor and Harry. Harry's expression was tense and as they filed out, he caught Chakotay's attention. "Can I speak to you a moment?"

Chakotay nodded and waited as the others filed out.

"I saw my folks last night," Harry said, his eyes sparkling with the memory of it.

Chakotay smiled, squeezing Harry's arm. "I'm glad, Harry. Are they well?"

"They are. That's part of the problem. You see, they don't want to have to see me go away again."

Chakotay nodded, waiting. "Are you asking to stay behind here?"

"No," Harry assured him. "That would make things worse for the folks. What I'm asking is ... can they come with us?"

Chakotay thought a moment. "Do you and they understand what that could mean if they come? What about their home?"

"My aunt is moving in. She'll take care of the birds and the house. They understand. So do I. I know this is a lot to ask but I have to."

"No. It's not a lot to ask, Harry. They can come."

Harry looked at Chakotay and blinked, his eyes filling with tears. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I owe you one."

"Anything you owe me, Harry, was paid off long ago," Chakotay replied. "Go take care of your parents. Pass it on with my authority if there are any problems bringing them up."

Harry nodded, a huge smile on his face. Chakotay stepped out and watched as the door closed. He turned, a grin on his own face and walked to the Mess Hall. He entered and programmed a big meal, carrying it to the tables by the window that were occupied by the people that mattered most to him. Sitting, he grinned.

"You look happy," Tom commented, stirring his coffee.

"Win some and lose some, Paris. It's all in a day's work."

Tom considered his lover and then shook his head. "If you say so."

"I do, Paris. Pass the salt."

Tom grinned and handed him the shaker. "Please would be nice."

"*Please*. Pretty please with sugar on top," Chakotay bantered back, a huge grin on his face.

"If you say so," Tom replied before he dumped an entire container of sugar all over Chakotay's plate.

**********Tales, Part Three By Jake Sisko FNN ...

It was quiet in the chamber after they left. Some people moved to make speeches, most of them against making a treaty with the Maquis. The interesting part wasn't that they did. What was interesting was the numbers of delegates and ambassadors that got up and left the room while such speeches were being given.

There has been a sea change here. Will it last? What will it mean in the end? No one can guess. But it's safe to say that powerful political careers hinge on who becomes the victor.

President Nolan walked to Maquis out, seeing them off with Admiral Owen Paris, special envoy for the Federation in the peace overtures that began several weeks ago. I had a brief interview with the Admiral a few hours following the Maquis speech and he had some very intriguing comments and observations to make about the peace talks and events leading up to the formal negotiations here in San Francisco.

Q. "You met first on Khitomer."

Admiral Paris: "We did. We were ancillary participants in the talks, assisting Vice President Blanchard and hisdelegation since the Federation President Nolan was unavailable at the time to meet."

Q. "How do you characterize those talks?"

AP: long pause with much consideration "They were to be a meeting to sort out preliminary conditions to formal talks. We were supposed to sit down and make up an agenda for further negotiations."

Q. "Didn't that happen?"

AP: long pause and long sigh "No. We were surprised completely when after the Maquis arrived, Vice President Blanchard had his security open fire on the Maquis causing them to be taken prisoner. Some of them were severely injured."

Q. "You weren't aware of this happening?"

AP: huge irritation "Of course not. We were there under a flag of truce for godsake. Blanchard fired on them and took them prisoner. Some were thrown in the Brig and some were hospitalized. Then he began to interrogate them."

Q. "What did that include?"

AP: long, long pause "Methods that made me ashamed. He used methods that are not sanctioned by the Federation Articles of War and by the protocols of interrogation that we hold in our charters."

Q. "Are you saying that Vice President Blanchard tortured his prisoners?"

AP: "You're damned right I am. I was given a full report from the doctors on Khitomer and the security that are stationed there. We, that is Star Fleet's delegation asked for and were severed from the process opening overtures of our own to the Maquis. It's only by the grace of god that they decided to try this process once more."

Q. "What are the specifics if any of the methods that Blanchard sanctioned?"

AP: "He had a man hanged. He made Commandant Kolopak watch as he hanged his son."

Q. "Did he die?"

AP: "No, thank god. He made the Commandant believe he had. Fortunately, Kolopak is a much more forgiving man than I would be if our places were reversed."

Q. "You secured the formal talks. What did it take to make the Maquis come back to the table?"

AP: silence and then a hard determined expression crossed his face "Keeping your word like a man."

**********Liberty ...

They moved silently heading toward the Narrows and Tuvok could see them coming on the view screen. Enterprise followed and in seconds they would be out of the gravity well of Sol. When they were past that they would jump to warp and when they approached the territory that led to the DMZ, Enterprise would peel off and return to the agreed upon border of the new agreement. That area would be the leading edge of space that separated all of the planets of the rim and frontier from the more settled space of the Federation.

He watched as they passed and then he joined them moving silently like a shark as they slipped on. They moved past Pluto and then the jump was made, three ships flying together into the darkness. A light flashed on the console and he pressed the panel. "Second One here."

"Tuvok, this is First One. I have a package for you."

"Acknowledged."

He broke the link and rose giving the conn to Kira. Walking to the lift, he continued to the transporter room, making ready to receive someone. Entering the room, he watched as the shimmer of transport coalesced. He blinked and steeled his expression standing with intense dignity.

A beautiful woman stepped down, reaching out to him with her mind. She raised her hand, her fingers extended.

/... parted but never parted, husband .../

Tuvok extended his hand, placing his fingers on hers. He swallowed hard, his astonishment almost overwhelming to him.

/... parted but never, never parted, wife .../

T'Pel of Vulcan only nodded.

=0=

Nuclear Winter Book 27 (3/3 plus epilogue)

=0=

Two weeks later ...

There was great activity at the Maquis Home World. The news was good coming out of San Francisco and the Federation was going to strike its first concession. All of the forces of the military would be moving back to the line that separated the frontier from the Federation proper. It would mean that the multitude of planets and stations that had been the rim before the war would be free of foreign intervention once again.

Chakotay had heard the news over the wire, Reg Barclay at his side and when he was finished hugging Reg, he hurried to tell the others. His father had been elated, hugging his wife tightly.

"This means good things. This means that Nolan has enough power to do things. I worried about that," Kolopak said smiling broadly. "I wondered what would happen if Blanchardwasn't put in check."

"He is. We must reciprocate," Bey said nodding. "We must give something to Nolan that shows he can deal with us and make headway."

Kolopak nodded. "We can make a concession. We can let them have the oil fields at Rynald. We can hold the planet but they can use the fields. That will cut down on the resupply nightmare that pulling back will give them."

"I'll pouch it to Nolan. First diplomatic courier tomorrow," Bey said turning and walking to the computer nearby.

Kolopak sighed happy at the first small step. "We need to send the spies home. We need to clear this place of the people that don't need or want to be here. We have to make sure that the information going out is what we want and not what some spy got garbled. Nayib, you take care of that. It was your bailiwick wasn't it?"

He nodded to his father. "I'll get on it now." He turned and walked out, heading out to dismantle the spy network that he had crisscrossed all over the DMZ. The first to be let go would be Oola. He smiled as he hit the street. That probably wouldn't be such sad news for her. Whistling as he went Nayib stepped out to spread the good news.

**********Nearby at a hotel ...

Chakotay knocked on the door and he heard a familiar voice say come. Entering, he smiled noting the small form sitting by the window feet propped up on the windowsill, ubiquitous cup of coffee in her hand. "You look comfy."

She grinned. "I am."

"May I join you?"

"By all means," she said a fluttery wave of her hand indicating agreement.

He sat and relaxed propping his feet up on a coffee table. "The Federation is pulling back to their own space."

"Good for you," Kathryn said her face hard to read. "I guess that means that the Frontier Alliance is officially born."

"There are many places for smart dames in a start up. You should consider the possibilities."

She grinned surprisingly bemused. "I don't know about

that. I think I'm off the military. It's such a bitch these days."

Chakotay snickered and shook his head. "You're a hard one to figure, Kathryn."

"Not really. I just wanted things to work out that's all."

"I know," Chakotay agreed looking at her with his old affection.

"None of this, none of it we wanted. None of it we expected. I'm sorry that it all came out this way."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know. I did and still I was so fooled."

"That's old and in the past, Kathryn. This is the new day for us all. Stay and join with us. We could use your smarts and your strength."

Kathryn smiled, looking at him with the old fondness. "It's tempting but right now I'm not sure what I want to do."

"Think about it. You have a home here. I hope you know that."

She looked at him, watching him as he rose from his chair. Holding out her hand, she squeezed his. "I hope you know why I didn't tell you about your father. I wanted to, I truly did. I just-"

"I know," Chakotay interjected. "I do know. It's all right."

"Is it?" she asked her voice filled with emotion.

He leaned down and kissed her hand. "It is, Kathryn."

She smiled her body relaxing and then she nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Come to dinner at the HQ tonight. We'll celebrate something."

"Anything in particular?" she asked.

"Old friends," Chakotay replied with a smile. "Comrades-in-arms."

"I'll be there."

He nodded and smiled turning and walking out the door. She watched him go contented beyond expectation. She didn't know what she wanted or where she would go next but the burden of the universe was off her shoulders and for that she was deeply grateful.

**********Maquis Clinic ...

Nayib sat next to Oola watching as she woke up from the anesthetic that had made the removal of the listening device possible. It was a simple operation to remove it, almost an office job and he would wait with her until she was discharged. He liked her, this unusual dual alien and he would miss her even though he was amply satisfied in the sex and companionship department now. He recognized a fellow renegade and he would make sure that she made the shuttle that would take her toward her own space and home. Her things were already there waiting for her to arrive.

She stirred and he smiled glad to see that she was all right. Soon she would be gone and he would be going back to the HQ for dinner. Life was good. It was very, very good indeed.

**********Lunch at a cafe ...

Harry laughed and told jokes entertaining Tom with stories of his mom and dad. They were at a nearby hotel resting. Long space flight was new to them but they were game, unwilling to let their only child out of their sight again. Chakotay stopped by for coffee and was gone again as were a number of other Crazy Horse and Liberty crew.

It was a lazy and happy afternoon, the people just relaxing after the good news of the first Federation concession. Tom for one was glad and as he sipped his beer he began to formulate plans for the evening post dinner.

**********At the main shuttle port, Broken Tree ...

Nayib waved as Oola walked up the gangway heading for the shuttle that would take her away. She had flirted and bantered with Nayib, the big man giving as good as he got on the ride to the shuttle port. As she disappeared, no one noticed that a small figure was watching.

Samuel watched Oola disappear and as she did his whole world crumbled. She would be going, his reason for living. He loved her with a passion that almost doubled him over with the burden of its pain. He watched her and then noted the big Maquis that was the cause of the destruction of his world.

He reached into his pocket and fingered the knife that he kept there. As he looked up the Maquis was gone. Running out of the terminal he searched and searched but didn't find him. He gathered his thoughts and considered what to do. He would go to the Maquis HQ and wait for him there. When he saw him again he would kill him.

**********Later that night ...

She walked along, the cool breeze refreshing. The Maquis HQ was directly ahead and in minutes she would be dining with the creme de la creme of the outlaw world. What a strange turn of events *this* was. Up ahead she saw a ground car stop and Nayib stepped out talking to someone nearby. As she did, she noted another person, a slight person standing in the shadows. She picked up her step and by the time she caught up to Nayib the figure had moved out, heading toward him too.

She saw a flash of silver and she called out running toward the stranger as Nayib turned. He raised his hand and the silver slashed again a spray of red flying in all directions as Nayib cried out and turned. Kathryn moved, lunging at the stranger and then he twisted driven to great strength by fury. She was pulled from her feet and then the silver flashed again. She felt it go in, the oddly soundless slide of metal and the heat from it centered in her chest.

She stood stock still her hand clutching the youngster's arm as they stared at each other both holding bewildered looks in their anguished eyes. Nayib, spinning, clutching his bleeding hand stared at both in the soundless airless vacuum of the moment. Then it all slammed in and he lunged forward.

The youngster fell back knocked from his feet by Nayib's bulk. Kathryn just stood staring at the knife protruding from her chest and the increasingly widening circle of crimson that flowed from the wound across her shirt. Nayib stared at her shaken with fright and grabbed her as she fell. When she did he screamed.

Everything seemed to happen at once as doors opened and people sped out. Nayib knelt beside her covered with his blood and hers as Tom stood over her uncertain what to do. A Maquis doctor shoved in, kneeling and checking her vitals. For a moment, no one breathed and then she looked up shaking her head at all the shattered and grieving people surrounding them.

"No!" Tom screamed flinging his arms out as Chakotay moved to hold him. Tom swung on Chakotay and for a moment they struggled before Tom embraced his lover with all his strength. "NO! NO!NO!NO!" Tom cried out his anguishing breaking the terrible stillness of the moment.

Nayib sat down on the pavement dazed with the events and the loss of his own blood and his mother moved to him, pulling him back to lay his head in her lap. The Maquis doctor took the kit that was given her and began to patch Nayib's gashed hand. Beyvahl stared at the small figure of Kathryn and then turned, looking around for the source of their grief. Standing between two Maquis shivering with fear and his own grief Samuel stood captured.

**********Two hours later, Maquis HQ ...

Tom sat on a chair overcome with grief and shock. Chakotay sat on a couch staring at the floor. Around them the Alpha crew had assembled shock and disbelief warring with their grief.

"Who was this kid?" B'Elanna asked her voice surprisingly soft.

"A kid from the refuge camp. His family is all dead.

His only friend was Oola. When Nayib sent her away, he lost his sanity. He tried to kill Nayib, not Kathryn. He didn't mean to hurt her," Beyvahl said sighing with fatigue and pain."He *killed* her," B'Elanna interjected.

"He's mentally ill. He had been through hell in the camps. He's not responsible for his actions," Bey patiently explained.

"And that's that?" B'Elanna persisted.

"The doctors say he's mentally ill and not responsible. He needs treatment and he'll got it," Bey persisted. "We don't gain anything by killing an insane person."

It was silent for a moment and then Tom sighed. "What do we do with her? We should take care of her, the bunch of us. She brought us home. It wasn't her fault that this shit happened. She loved us like family and she brought us home. What do we do now, Chakotay?"

All eyes turned to the distraught man sitting on the couch. "She asked me if we were all right. I told her we were, Tom. It was only a couple of hours before this. I told her that we were okay."

Tom looked at Chakotay, at the anguish on his face and he rose moving and sitting next to him. "That was good, Chakotay. I'm glad you got it clear. That's a gift now isn't it."

Chakotay nodded his head as tears began to fall from his eyes. "This is so wrong, Tom. I'm so sorry this happened. I invited her to stay. I told her we needed her."

"I'm glad," Tom said, pulling Chakotay into his arms. "That's a gift for you. She knew we loved her and needed her. That's good."

Chakotay felt the tears fall and he knew that this moment would haunt him forever. What they had to do now was give Kathryn back to her family and give her full military honors from the Maquis. They would have to convince the Federation to do the same because to do less than that would be a blow from which he knew he would never recover. He sat in the office surrounded by his friends and family and cried his eyes out.

**********Nine days later ...

It was sunny on that morning when Kathryn Janeway was laid to rest. She had been brought back to the Federation under full military honors on the Maquis flagship, her own beloved Voyager. They had met her, a honor guard of ships and they had flown with Voyager to Earth. They had renamed themselves Voyager for the occasion and they wore their old Star Fleet uniforms.

They were met at the shuttle port of her hometown by President Nolan, Owen Paris and a number of other dignitaries. A Maquis honor guard carried the hand carved wooden coffin with her remains to the transport and loaded it on board saluting as the doors closed. As the transport pulled out, cars followed carrying dignitaries and the Alpha crew of Voyager toward the cemetery on the edge of town where she would be laid to rest.

They stood behind Kathryn's mother and family, their grief transparent on their faces. Tuvok and T'Pel, Chakotay and Tom and B'Elanna, the EMH and Seven and Harry and Gina. They stood together, grieving together as they brought Kathryn Janeway home at last.

=0=

Nuclear Winter Epilogue (Book 27-three parts plus epilogue)

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It was warm when he awakened, the sun beating through the window. He sighed and turned curling up against the back of his lover. Cuddling in, he fell into a light sleep punctuated by the call of birds outside. It was high summer and they slept under a sheet as naked as the day they were born. Even though they had been together for ten years, they were as contented with that idea as if it was yesterday and things were still new.

In a few hours, they would need to get up, moving around the place to get ready. A huge barbecue was going to happen and they were the guests of honor. Chakotay would celebrate his promotion and Tom would celebrate Chakotay's celebration. All the family would be here with friends coming in from other places. It promised to be wonderful.

He sighed. "We have to get up, Chakotay."

"I know," Chakotay sighed his hand moving behind him seeking Tom's dick.

"You better not start something I can't finish."

Chakotay grinned and turned slightly catching the thatch of blond hair that marked where Tom's head was stuck. "Are you giving in to middle age already?"

"No. I'm just tired. Why did you get in so late last night?"

"The shuttle was held over to take some big shots to Marin Gos."

"Big deal. You're an Admiral now. Tell them to fuck off."

Chakotay snorted and found his target noting with satisfaction at the reaction in his lover. "I can still turn you on."

"You can break my dick you mean. There. Like that." Tom sighed and pressed against Chakotay's fingers as they worked their magic on him. "Do me. I don't want to change the sheets."

"You're one romantic bastard, I'll give you that," Chakotay said as he shifted moving down to where Tom's dick was slowly being coaxed into life. He grinned and kissed it noting Tom's impatient thrust.

"Do me, *Romeo*."

Chakotay complied leisurely sucking Tom to climax. He noted the satisfied expression on his lover and the telltale flush of his skin.

"Another winner," he remarked lying back beside his splayed out partner.

"Yeah, sure baby," Tom replied suppressing a chuckle.

"Happy whatever we are," Chakotay remarked grunting as Tom turned and clambered on his body, settling with a deep sigh.

"Happy anniversary or something," Tom replied.

Chakotay grinned. "We never did make you an honest man did we."

"No," Tom agreed sucking on Chakotay's neck. "However to make up for it let me blow you."

Chakotay snorted groaning as Tom elbowed himself down to Chakotay's groin. He sighed as fingers, lips and tongue began to work their magic. Soon he was jerking and hollering and then he came. They lay together comfortably. "You do that well."

"Thanks."

"In the Cocksucker Olympics, Tom, you'd medal."

Tom snorted and rubbed his face against Chakotay's groin. "Thanks. I think."

"We better get up," Chakotay said with a yawn.

"We better."

They both dozed off again.

**********Nearby ...

They began to fly in coming from around the planet and from other places. Some had traveled a long time and others just drove in from where they lived. A lot had changed in the ten years since Voyager had returned. A big part of that was being acknowledged today. Harry and Gina, married and the parents of two children flew in from nearby Tersis II, where Harry was commander of the military depot that serviced half the sector.

They were being joined by half of the Voyager crew that still lived in the area. Others, those that weren't on ship duty for the Frontier Military Authority were flying in on military transport and shanks mare heading for the legendary once-a-year barbecue that was open to all.

Seven of Nine, now known as Anika Hanson was bringing in the doctor, the two of them doing advanced research on Borg medicine together at M.I.T. They would rendezvous with Tuvok and his wife, the two making the journey from Vulcan for the occasion. Tuvok was a professor at the Vulcan Science Academy and taught tactical operations at Star Fleet Academy.

Most of the crew that was still alive and in the area would be there and it would be a chance for all to catch up. Most of the Voyager crew Maquis and 'Fleet alike had elected to stay in the Frontier. The start up of a new political entity with all that meant in terms of devising a military and legal presence had been the draw that kept them here. Being in a place where they didn't have to bump heads with those who might hold other opinions of the war was another.

Some things diehard.

Many of them had gone home, glad to be back in their own space. Some of them had stayed, not many in total and the others had drifted back making homes and lives here among friends. The recertification process for disenfranchised Federation citizens had been too daunting for most to endure. The peace though it came would be a long time in truly coming.

The sounds of people outside their house spurred Tom and Chakotay into rising and by the time they walked outside family and friends began to fill up the grounds. Tents were raised to cover the dining areas and chairs were placed under the shade trees. Old women and men, young people and children began to spill out of cars to join the throng of people in the house and in the yards. They greeted each other, friends of years and years making friends with new people some just arrived on the frontier looking for a fresh start.

Tables began to fill up with food brought from homes all around and when Harry showed up, the barbecue was lit and men and women were fussing over it. Tom hugged Harry's kids and soon they were off running barefooted with all the others. Neelix breezed in hugging people and explaining the startup of his new restaurant in the capital of the Frontier Alliance, Marin Gos Township. He moved on, heading for the grill where he was pressed into service by his former Voyager comrades.

Maria walked past hugging Tom and she was followed by Tabor, Nayib and Bey. The older brother, his hair shot through with gray had taken time off from government to come. The President of the Frontier Alliance as their political confederation was called would be glad of it. He had been in trade negotiations with the Federation for a week and having a chance to unwind would be more than welcome.

Kolopak walked to a chair and sat down joined by several male relatives and friends his age. They talked and laughed, smiling at the women who fussed over them. Chakotay caught up with Tom as he stood holding pies for two women organizing a table. "Come on," Chakotay said shaking hands with a friend.

Tom turned and followed him grinning and joking with people as they walked toward the house. Climbing the stairs, they went inside and in the din of the kitchen, Chakotay liberated a bottle of wine and two glasses. Turning, he nodded to the stairs and they both climbed moving to the small den at the end of the hallway. Entering, Chakotay kicked the door shut with his foot. Handing the two glasses to Tom, he began to peel off the foil working at the cork that stopped the bottle. It popped off missing Tom's face and Chakotay stood watching the sparkles of the wine as they twinkled out of the bottle.

Tom held up the glasses and Chakotay poured smiling at his lover as he did. Taking one, he held it out. "To you and me, Slim. We're a helluva team."

Tom snickered and took a sip. "Nice wine. My turn."

Chakotay swallowed his sip and grinned. "Alright."

"To the first Admiral in the history of the Frontier Military Authority."

Chakotay smiled. They clinked their glasses. "To the best test pilot the Frontier Military Authority ever had, *Commander*."

"Chakotay, I know you love me but there has only been one test pilot in FMA history. That's me."

"I know and you do it so well," Chakotay replied leaning in for a kiss. He lingered and sighed. "I must make you an honest man."

"Okay. But not today."

Chakotay grinned. "We've come a long way, Tom. I can't imagine what life would have been like if the Vedek hadn't done what he did."

"Me either." Tom considered Chakotay's serious expression. "I haven't heard from B'Elanna for a while. We'll have to ask around. Maybe someone here has."

"I'll ask," Chakotay replied kissing Tom again. He turned and reached for a door of a cabinet on the wall. Pulling it back, he revealed a picture. They stood together staring at it and then Chakotay raised his glass. "To you, Kathryn."

"Comrades in arms?" Tom whispered his eyes on the young face of the woman in the picture.

Chakotay nodded.

Tom raised his glass then sipped his wine. They stood together staring at the picture and then Chakotay took the glass from Tom's hand. "We better go. There's things to do, Tom."

Tom looked at him and then the picture sighing deeply. "I know."

They stood a second and then they turned walking out the door to their life outside, a life of possibilities, family and friends.

**********B'Elanna Torres ...

She left the Crazy Horse when the war was ended by treaty one year after the San Francisco Peace Talks. Heading for the Klingon home world, she spent three years looking for her mother. Finding her alive, they reconciled and B'Elanna spent several years working for an engineering firm that had connections all over the Alpha Quadrant. She kept in touch with her friends for years, attending reunions but never the yearly affair at Chakotay's house. Eventually, she stopped making contact at all. No one ever heard from her again.

**********Harry Kim ...

Harry married his girlfriend, Gina. They had two children who would grow up to join the FMA. Harry took care of his parents at his home on Tersis II until their deaths. He would run the big installation at Tersis II and retire to Dorvan V where he would raise flowers and ride horses to his hearts content close to the people that he loved the most.

**********Greg Ayala and Geron Tem ...

He returned to find his wife remarried and his children barely aware of him. They did build a relationship but he was never truly close to them. He came back to Dorvan V where he was born and raised and started a business growing vegetables and raising dairy cows. He kept company with several women before striking up a friendship with Geron-Tem, a Bajoran Maquis who had lost his entire family in the Cardassian Occupation. They would develop into an intense affair and spend their entire lives together.

**********Tuvok and T'Pel of Vulcan ...

They would go home to Vulcan where Tuvok would teach at the Vulcan Science Academy. He would live contentedly with his wife, consulting for the FMA and teaching masters classes on tactics at Star Fleet Academy for graduate students. His son, Sek would go on to a rewarding and critically acclaimed career in music and marry, having four children of his own. Tuvok would dote on his many grandchildren illogical though that might seem.

**********Seven of Nine and the Doctor ...

Seven of Nine would keep a home base on Dorvan V while doing advanced research, partly funded by Alaksa Corp -owned by Tom Riker- at M.I.T among other research facilities. Along the way, she and the holodoc would devise a way for her to engage her higher-level emotions without jeopardizing her life allowing them to develop a deep and sincere emotionally satisfying relationship that would last her the rest of her life.

**********Reg Barclay ...

Reg Barclay would go on to become Chief of Communications and Special Assignments for the Frontier Military Alliance, rising to the rank of Admiral before his retirement on Dorvan V. He would eventually marry Sam Wildman, a divorcee and they would have two more children. Naomi would be pleased and Neelix would be godfather.

Again.

**********Neelix ...

He would become famous all over the Alpha Quadrant for his restaurants and unusual recipes utilizing AQ ingredients to make his DQ delicacies. He would homebase on Dorvan V but fan out to have restaurants on over fifteen worlds. Close to friends, professionally content and socially active, he would die a contented old man. He would also know that contact would be established with his own people due to better communications and ships designs. He would be able to talk to other Talaxians to his hearts content and be a part of the diplomatic overtures that the FA and the Federation would begin two years before his death.

**********The Defiant crew ...

Kira Nerys would return to Bajor and rise through the ranks retiring eventually at a ripe old age achieving all the goals she set out for herself. She would become involved in her religion and would serve as a cultural liaison for the Bajoran government to several political entities including the Federation and the Frontier Alliance.

Julian Bashir would make a career in medicine working on diseases that plagued the newer worlds of the Frontier Alliance, forming a roving medical organization based on the historic Doctors Without Borders from early Earth history. He would win many awards and spend alot of time training younger doctors. He would marry a Trill doctor, a distant cousin of Jadzia Dax but they would have no children. He would die contented and honored, finally achieving what he sought all his life to achieve, peace of mind.

Miles O'Brien would return to his family and spend his career in Star Fleet rising to the rank of Commander. He would go to work for Tom Riker becoming a leading proponent of new sources and forms of energy. He would become a doting grandfather as well. He would keep his friendship with Julian Bashir for the rest of his life.

**********The Sorrell Bay crew ...

Wesley Crusher would leave Star Fleet, traveling with an alien who would show him the galaxy. He would remain close to his mother but his whereabouts would remain mostly a mystery.

Geordi LaForge would continue his career ending up an Admiral in Star Fleet Command. He would serve with honor and distinction spending his last years in building good relations between Star Fleet and the Frontier Military Alliance.

**********Jake Sisko ...

Jake would become a prize winning author and authority on the politics of the Frontier Alliance. He would win many awards and live an eventful life before succumbing in a shuttle crash. He would not marry but he would leave behind a son, Benjamin who would grow up to become a noted writer of poetry.

**********Tom and Will Riker ...

Tom Riker returned home, married his ensign and had three children. They worked side-by-side, Barbara and Tom and retired to the south of France at a young age. Their business would become the most advanced military contractor in the Alpha Quadrant serving the Frontier Alliance as well. They would keep a house on Dorvan V and they made sure that they made the President's Day party at the home of Kolopak and Maria and the barbecue at Tom and Chakotay's house every year until their deaths.

Will Riker would return to his life confused and enraged. After long talks with Deanna and Jean-Luc Picard he relented to the master logic and kept the tale of his kidnapping and imprisonment to himself. He would work at Jean-Luc's side for the rest of his career retiring and moving back to his home in Valdez, Alaska where he would be a river guide sharing a life with his wife, Deanna Troi. He would never see his 'brother' Tom again.

**********Jean-Luc Picard ...

He would command the Enterprise, eventually retiring to take over the management of his family's historic vineyard, marrying and divorcing Beverly Crusher. He would make fine vintages, study archaeology and teach master courses at the Academy until his untimely death from a rare genetic and untreatable disease. He would be greatly mourned.

**********Tom's family ...

Owen and Tom Paris would reconcile becoming very close in the later years of Owen's life. Tom would be with his father when he died holding his hand at his passing. He would invite his mother to live with him taking the sprightly old lady into his house. She would begin and enjoy a great friendship with Maria and would die at an advanced age surrounded by her children and friends, much loved and greatly mourned.

**********Chakotay's family ...

Kolopak and Maria would never be parted another day until they died. They would live in their house on Dorvan V, Kolopak working on his research and the progress of the frontier people and Maria would make their home a salon of intellectual stimulation and gastronomical excellence.

Beyvahl would marry a hometown girl, a friend from his school days and they would work for the progress of the Frontier Alliance together. They would have no children. They would have a full life. He would become President of the FA four times.

Nayib would marry Tabor and they would live on Dorvan V, Nayib picking up his engineering business once more and Tabor becoming a painter of note. He would be more proud of his roses.

Tom and Chakotay would live together never making each other an honest man but they would be together until the end, Chakotay dying in his arms at the ripe old age of

114. Tom would follow four months later.

None of the male members of Chakotay's family would have any children.

**********Keith Nolan ...

He would engineer a settlement that would allow for the formation of the Frontier Alliance. He would work for social justice and win the Presidency two more times before stepping down. He would live a life of good works and be mourned on both sides of the political divide as a good man.

**********Neil Blanchard ...

The investigation into the methods employed by Vice President Blanchard would end in deadlock in committee but would lose him support in a number of quarters for the ruthlessness of his behavior and the tenacity with which he defended himself. Neil Blanchard would lose his bid for Federation President and end up in the Council, the vocal and very thwarted voice of opposition. He would never be more than that.

**********Fin

And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. -Isaiah 2:4

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Thank you for your time and attention to this story.

C2000/2010


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